Baptism
by YamiTami
Summary: Ed would do anything for his brother, and he did. Now he has to live with the consequences. //short chapters, vaguely stated rape, breakdowns, homosexuality, spoilers through the movie//
1. Chapter 1

**Since people are still interested in my fics over here and FFN has fixed a couple (but not near all) of the issues it's been having, I'll start posting my stories here again. This is really against my better judgment and if they screw up so that dashes disappear or the ads somehow get more annoying, then I'm not coming back. It's bad enough they still don't allow tildies for no apparent reason.**

**I'm posting this in chapter one of all my stories so everyone knows where I can be found. See my profile for the link to my homepage.**

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My hand shot out and closed over the barrel of the gun before I had even registered hearing it cock. By the time the dry, unsurprised chuckle reached my ears I had already wrenched the gun out of the attacker's grasp. As I turned to face them, I realized that they had willingly let go of their firearm.

It wasn't long before I learned that Archer didn't need a gun to keep me pinned.

_Your brother_

The tiles were cold and slick against my back. The clink of my right shoulder against the wall was as constant and even as the tick of a clock.

_I'll do anything_

There was too much pressure. Too many minerals clogging up the showerhead. The hard spray stung the side of my face. The heater didn't take long to run out and the water went icy. I was glad.

_Anything_

I wanted to be numb.

_Kimblee told me something interesting today_

I couldn't pretend it wasn't happening. He wouldn't let me.

_Many would love to take him apart_

Cheek against mine. Whispered. Cold.

_Don't think I don't see the tears_

Clumsily returning it. Forcing my eyes to stay open and on his.

_Weak little boy_

It was just another sin. Another stain on my soul. Definitely not the worst I'd done.

_Clink clink clink_

But it hurt.

_Clink clink clinkclinkclinkclink clink clink_

Ear. Neck. Collarbone. Shoulder.

_Stop_

Scarmetalsin.

_You're not done yet_

He pushed wet hair off of my neck.

_Lovely_

Twisted the end of a lock around his fingers. Contemplated it.

_Quite lovely_

Ran both hands over the boundaries.

_But not enough_

Low voice. Careful hands. He didn't leave any marks. Not on my skin.

_Clinkclinkclinkclinkclinkclink_

He eased me to the floor of the shower. Kissed the top of my head.

_Bastard_

A smirk as he reached for his uniform.

_Yes_

One last exaggerated pitying look.

_I did come to you_


	2. Chapter 2

I spent the first month in a London hospital as a thousand unfamiliar microbes took over my body. In the second week my fever spiked and I slipped into nightmarish hallucinations and memories. Word of a yellow eyed boy raving about alchemy spread and when I came down from the delusions my so called father was by my side. I wanted to tell him to get out but I was just too tired.

He smooth talked and ass kissed the staff into releasing me in the middle of the night. He carried me across the city to the hotel he was staying at without a word. I held the box of my thirteen medications with my left hand and contemplated the strange peace offering. Since it was around two in the morning, no one saw the tiny sick fifteen year old missing an arm and leg being carried like he was nothing.

I figured I might be almost okay with living with him. By the time my stitches were out I didn't even really mind that he was going to have to help me take a bath, though it was still awkward as hell for the both of us. I was kind of glad that I spent half the time spacing out from the drugs and sheer exhaustion.

A few baths later I was resting my head against the wall and staring at nothing. It was towards the end of my medication's effectiveness so the pain was giving me some focus. Ever so slowly my mind took in the fact that the tiles were ivory. They used to be white but age had taken its toll on the color. My eyes slowly wandered over the wall and I tried to find a tile that was a different shade from the others.

I was distracted by the movement of an ant coming out of the cracks in the grout. I followed its path up to the ceiling where a couple other ants were hanging out. Up at the top of the aged white tiles was the sad attempt at a pattern with cracked navy blue and something that might have once been sky blue.

I don't know if anyone ever scared Dad more than I did when I started crying.

He asked me why a few times but I never told him. I didn't even want to admit it to myself, let alone say it out loud and... make it _real_. When he moved us to a new place with a gaudy pink bathroom I got the feeling that I talked in my sleep. But, aside from the look on his face when he asked if the tub was okay, he never pressed the issue again.

Almost two years later he was gone and I was in another blue and white bathroom. It was a different pattern but it was close enough to bring it all back. As I stood there staring at the tiles, it hit me. Why Archer had been so careful with me. So gentle. His movements were soft even if his eyes weren't. He made me look at him. He made me kiss him back as he--

Alphons held my hair back and talked about food poisoning and taking me to the hospital.

Archer Archer was gentle. And if I ever had a lover, every touch would send me back to that shower. And he was right. Only someone twisted would want someone so broken and a third metal. I almost cut my hair off between the dry heaves, but the stubborn part of me stood up and refused to give in. I started having dangerous thoughts every time I saw a pair of scissors anyway. So it got longer in spite of him. The small act of defiance made me feel a little better.

Then I ruined it by resigning myself to being alone for the rest of my life, which is probably what he was aiming for.

I guess neither of us counted on Roy liking it rough.


	3. Chapter 3

I did a lot of growing up when I was on the other side. I was past the overreactions and outbursts, past the insecurities over my height, even past people seeing my auto-mail. I was calm, collected, quiet, studious... the model alchemic bookworm. As a matter of fact, most people thought I was too serious for my own good. The only time I wasn't too serious was when Al was around.

Well, him and Roy.

When I came back they dragged him out of that frozen hell of an outpost and back to Central to testify in my desertion case. Seeing him was like a punch in the gut. It wasn't really the missing eye, or the missing rank, or even how damn skinny he was. It took me a while to figure out that he was slouching in on himself instead of standing tall and proud and smug. The smirk was gone, the way he'd look over his hands at everyone, the confident way he'd talk and walk and do everything. It was weird to the point of being disturbing. And it made me feel like punching him.

I settled for yelling in his face.

Al asked me why I'd treat him the same way I did when I was fourteen, maybe even worse, when he didn't try to get under my skin anymore. I tried to explain but just ended up tripping over my words and realizing that I wasn't entirely sure why I couldn't be around him for more than ten minutes without getting in his face.

It took some more thinking and observation before I realized that the fact that he wasn't insulting me was what got under my skin. I knew that he'd fallen far and he'd landed hard in a deep pit, but he wasn't getting back up. He was digging himself deeper. Everyone else was giving him time to heal, waiting until he thought he was ready, handing him bigger shovels as he went further into the darkness. He'd have to climb out himself, but he needed a little unwanted help in getting to his feet or he'd never start.

And maybe... maybe a little of it was that the same person took something from us that could never be replaced.

A couple months after my trail ended I submitted a few proposals and became a research level State Alchemist. It was part of a deal I took under the table that kept Al out of everything, but I let everyone think it was my choice. I might have chosen that path anyway; I wasn't suited for anything but a career in alchemy. My position also allowed me to keep a bit of an eye on what the military was up to in this new age and try to steer the others away from things like chimera research.

Roy didn't see it that way.

It was the first time he'd instigated a conversation with me since I got back, and he started it angry. Part of me was pissed at him for thinking so little of my decision making capabilities, but I was mostly relieved that he was showing some kind of emotion besides bone crushing despair. Before long we were nose to nose and shouting ourselves hoarse. Good thing I'd gotten a little house near the lab with good soundproofing. Especially considering what happened next.

I don't know exactly what it was that I said to trigger it. I don't know if he even knew. But one second I was yelling and then next I was sprawled on the couch with our legs tangled and his tongue in my mouth.

I froze.

I couldn't hear anything above the pounding of my heart.

I couldn't breathe.

Blue and white patterns danced in front of my eyes.

I couldn't taste anything but-

"Please."

Another kiss, another taste. He tasted like the sweet tea with lemon he must have been drinking before he stormed over to my house. Not like mint. Not like he just brushed his teeth.

"Fullmetal, please."

He was leaving marks on my collarbone. Sucking hard and nipping the skin between the scars. His fingers dug into my shoulders painfully hard. There'd be bruises in the morning.

"I just need to feel again."

I didn't have clue one about how to pleasure a man like that, but from the way he moaned and thrust into my mouth I figured I'd done something right.

I recovered first, sitting up and staring at the sticky mess on my left hand and contemplating the similar mess all over my lower face. I sneaked a glance at his sprawled out, panting body and then looked away. I didn't know what would happen when he got his breath back. I didn't know how to fix this new level of awkward we'd managed to reach.

I didn't know how to handle the fact that I'd gotten off too.

When he sat up and touched my shoulder his hand was shaking. I told him where the shower was and that I'd wash his clothes without looking up. He hesitated for a moment before shedding the rest of his clothes and heading for the bathroom. Even when he handed me the bundle of damp cloth I didn't look at him. I couldn't make myself look at him.

I shed my clothes and threw everything in the washbucket with mechanical detachment. I ignored the sound of water hitting the tub and concentrated on the slosh of it in the bucket. Luckily I was doing laundry when he tried to break down my door so the bucket was already set up. Unfortunately it also meant that I had to wash things shirtless. I worked quickly and hoped against reason that he would take his time in the shower so he wouldn't see me like that. Awkward awkward awkward...

I finished in record time and dried his clothes alchemically. After folding them carefully and pulling a slightly damp shirt over my head, I found myself standing where my bathroom door would have been if I hadn't gotten the house so cheap. After a few minutes of staring at the steam on the mirror the sound of water ceased and a wet arm reached out and grabbed a towel.

"I washed your clothes," I blurted. The sounds behind the curtain stopped.

"Th... thank you. I..." he trailed off and resumed drying himself off.

I realized my hands were shaking as I set his clothes on the edge of the sink. I clasped them tightly together and tried to sort through everything spinning around in my head. I had a hard time grasping the fact that I'd just had sex with a man. I'd resigned myself to the fact that Archer was the only one who'd ever touch me like that... and that's what it was, a fact. But then Roy's teeth were everywhere and he was just different enough, just rough enough to keep the panicked part of my mind from taking over. And when he started throwing his head side to side and whimpering... almost unconsciously my hand found its way between my legs.

Once I'd gotten myself around the fact that I'd had sex with a man and genuinely enjoyed it, I was more surprised to find that I didn't mind that it was with Roy Mustang.

"Colonel... Roy?"

"Yes, Full... Edward?"

I bit my lip and made myself look at the green tiles I'd installed myself after ripping out the blue and white that'd been there before.

"Would you... would you mind if this happened again?"


	4. Chapter 4

It was a mistake. It was a mistake made in desperation and adrenaline and anger and it should never, ever be repeated. Doing so would threaten the tenuous friendship that had just started to grow between us. Hell, doing it once might have destroyed it already.

I don't know what moved me to say what I did.

_"Would you... would you mind if this happened again?"_

He wrapped my towel tightly around his hips and stepped out of the shower, grabbed his clothes and went around the corner and out of sight. I sat on the edge of the tub and stared at the mirror while he got dressed and told me all the reasons I already knew, throwing in age for good measure. I silently debated brushing my teeth and wondered why it was so hard to make a decision. By the time I had the toothpaste in my hand he had left with a damn final sounding goodbye.

Three days later I found myself pinned to the kitchen counter as he bit into my shoulder hard enough to make me bleed.

It was nice.

He ended up spending the night. In the morning, the scratches and indentions left by my auto-mail sharply stood out on his pale skin, but he never seemed to mind. He'd stretch and rub whatever it was and make some smartass comment about my bed hair, but he'd never complain. I never brought it up. I told myself it was because I didn't care, but really, I was afraid that I'd lose the closest thing I'd ever have to a relationship.

After dozens of... intimate encounters, he asked me. I told him the truth; that I wasn't ready to... go the whole way just yet. Every so often he'd get this look in his eye and run a hand over my thigh and lick the shell of my ear, but he'd always stop when I'd shake my head. Even though I was worried about losing whatever we had, I wasn't willing to... let him... so for almost half a year we stuck to everything but that, falling into an almost comfortable routine of desperate looks, aggressive sex, and passing out on my bed.

He's always complain about me ruining the afterglow by yelling at him for being a moron... but once, when he was dead tired and too lost in a sex induced haze to guard his words, he told me that it was the one thing keeping him level. He didn't seem to remember in the morning so I didn't bring it up. I did a little more yelling every night after that and he kept climbing up out of the hole he'd dug.

Sometimes all it takes is one little nudge to send you back to the bottom.

I'd given him a key ages ago so we could get to the 'pinned' phase right away, telling him that I'd strangle him if he ever showed up at an unholy hour. When he shook me awake at two in the morning, I just about did.

I froze when he turned on the light and I could see the tears running down his face.

He tried to say something, but it would be nearly a full twenty-four hours before he would get it out. I'd been around him long enough to know his pride had taken a heavy blow; he didn't reach for me. After a minute of taking in the broken look on his face I gently ran the back of my good fingers along his cheek.

A second later I was pinned to the sheets with a hungry mouth devouring mine. I wanted to know what caused this new brand of desperation but I couldn't hold onto anything when he was pressing into me like that. In an almost pathetically short time I was arched up against him and putting everything I had into the intense kiss. We were pressed too close to breathe through our noses, so he broke it to draw a long, shuddering breath. On pure instinct I pushed his head down and started kissing away the wet salt on his face.

After a couple pecks I realized what I was doing. Caring. What we had was about simple human contact in heavy doses, not caring. It was supposed to be hard and fast and exhausting, not soft and gentle. Hell, I'd already broken the rules by reaching out to him the way I had.

Already broke one rule...

Never was one to follow them in the first place...

After a moment's pause I went back to tenderly wiping away his tears. When he'd caught his breath enough to realize what I was doing he slowly locked up in shock. I didn't say anything, just went on with my lips and tongue until he was 'clean,' then rubbed the lingering moisture off my own face. When I finally met his eyes he was mostly done being shocked. Actually, the look he gave me was almost... curious.

He propped himself up on his elbows. His black eyes were full of things I should be scared of, but I wasn't. I never broke his gaze as he carefully tucked my bangs behind my ears, only closed my eyes when he cupped my cheek and leaned in to me.

Our kisses were normally intense. That was the best description for the hard, bruising mess of tongue and teeth and lips and more than often a little blood that we never noticed because we were too wrapped up in pure sensation.

The kisses we shared that night were an entirely different kind of intense. Long, slow, not quite gentle but close enough. Hands rubbing at neck and spine instead of leaving deep marks on wrists and shoulders. Soft sounds of contentment versus rough predatory growls. It was a strange new flavor I'd never tasted before, and I wanted more.

So did he.

I only wore boxers to bed so he didn't have much to remove. I'd managed to get his shirt off and pants undone before he pushed me back to the pillows and started kissing his way down my chest. Before long he had me writhing under a new kind of pleasure that made me forget how we were supposed to be; I asked for more instead of demanding it. He did things with his tongue he'd never done before and it turned me senseless.

Suddenly I remembered another man with gentle hands.

"Moan for me."

Roy was so caught up he hadn't noticed me freeze as blue and white danced in front of my eyes. I looked down at him and he bent his head again, brushing his lips over sensitive skin. Again he spoke, in the same breathless voice:

"Please," a hot tongue took another taste and I tensed, "moan for me," another taste of bitter pleasure, "Edward... please..."

The please... my name... maybe that's why I pushed him away just long enough to rummage around the bedside table drawer, finding what I needed and then pressing the tube and condom into his hands. We were both shaking and both staring at those two little things that meant so much. My doubts returned until he pinned me again, still gentler than our other encounters but still on the rough side. It was enough to be different. It was enough to keep the memory at bay long enough to get lost in the feeling of him inside me.

The sex was different that night, so it made sense that the aftermath would be too. Normally we pretty much passed out after I called him an idiot, but that night we actually kinda cuddled a little. Since it didn't seem right to sleep in the mess I told him to grab a quick shower while I changed the sheets. After he was done I stepped in for a rinse. I walked out toweling my hair as he was smoothing out the comforter on my bed. Sleeping next to him was always uncomfortable for both of us, and that night was no different... but it was.

It was nice.


	5. Chapter 5

I woke up on my stomach with Roy lying on top of me. His left arm was curled around mine and he was holding onto my wrist. It was pretty possessive, considering that he was sleeping. Then again, we had...

I stretched as much as I could without waking him and considered the new kind of sore I felt that morning. The slight pain wasn't any different, in fact, it hurt a little more. Still... it was like the fear was there, breathing down my neck the way... but then he would remind me that it was over. That someone wanted me. Maybe... maybe for more than desperate human contact.

I'd never given much thought to a real relationship, let alone one with Roy Mustang. We were 'together' to give comfort in bruises, not caring. But I did care about him. I wanted him to drag himself up and go back to being the annoying bastard I used to glare at over mission reports. He was alive back then. I'd seen some of that color return to him, and maybe... maybe I was proud to be part of that. I'd never have admitted it, but I admired his control and strength as much as I hated it. The fact that he leaned on me...

I was broken out of my thoughts when he yawned and moved to reach for the cover's we'd kicked around in our sleep. Mid-reach he paused and lifted himself off me a little. I turned my head enough to look at him from the corner of one eye. He looked at me like he didn't know what to do with me. Then his left hand slid up my arm and across my back, and he bent himself around so he could kiss me. It was another one of those long and slow kisses. Warm. After he pulled away he nudged me over and lay down next to me. I rolled onto my side to face him and realized that the moment had broken.

I thought the first time was awkward, but this blew it away easily. He absently rubbed my side as we both tried really hard not to look at each other, wondering where the comfortable feeling went. I let my eyes travel everywhere but his, taking the time to really look at the body I'd been intimate with for six months. Pale skin interrupted only by the scars Pride gave him. He'd lost muscle since his active duty days, but the definition was still there. The shape of his eyes, half obscured by the hair he refused to cut. The curve of his jaw, his lips...

I didn't know if I was really bisexual or if he'd become the one exception, but I liked what I saw. A lot. I thought about the kind of person he was when he was himself. He irritated me... but I doubted that I'd ever be able to have a quiet, 'normal' relationship with anyone, trauma or not. My two big crushes had been Winry and Lieutenant Hawkeye, so it wasn't really surprising that I'd be attracted to someone I yelled at a lot.

He was intelligent. He was clever. When he wasn't moping he was incredibly perceptive. He could be a manipulative bastard, which was fun when I wasn't on the other end. He was loyal to those he trusted. He'd rather die than see a child hurt.

He had his secrets. He had his scars. He had his nightmares.

He could understand.

I kissed him. He kissed me back. There was hardly any space between our lips when he sighed my name so soft I almost didn't hear it.

I should have known better than to trust in things said and done in the dark of night or the afterglow or in the early morning sun.

We fell right back into the same old pattern. He'd come in, I'd get pinned to something, he'd spend the night. Except he didn't look at me with that look and run his hand over everything while whispering... things. He didn't question. He didn't push.

He didn't want me.

I needed him.

I was always too busy worrying about how much he leaned on me to notice how much I was leaning on him. When he pulled away it was with enough force and speed that he fell back on his own two feet, maybe a little unsteady, but standing. I wasn't ready, and that morning I let myself hold onto him a little tighter... when he ripped himself away I fell flat on my face.

I hated myself for being so stupid, for thinking about him as something more than a warm body before making sure that he did too. Once I opened that gate I couldn't shut it back up again. I wanted him to look at me the way I was looking at him but he didn't. He knew what I felt like. He didn't want it anymore.

Our first 'anniversary' rolled around. He hadn't been to see me for two months. We saw each other as friends, of course. But not as lovers.

My nightmares got worse.

I'd seen it coming for a while, but somehow it was still a shock. Just another nothing, just another crack in the dam, just barely too much.

One night my mind wandered where I didn't want it to and I couldn't stop it. I couldn't stop thinking about how Al had moved on like I'd hoped he would, found a girl he hoped he could spend the rest of his life with back in the green fields that weren't my home anymore. How Winry made a name and a place for herself among metal limbs and dust and rock. How she was chased by half the men in the valley and even a few of the women.

I thought about how I was stuck in Central working off my dept to the State in a lab surrounded by tubes and jars and labels and minerals. No people. The only time I really interacted with my own race was when I contributed to the anti-chimera campaign. Even then, it was usually just handing someone a letter or essay on the way to or from work. I didn't interact with anyone, except...

He left me behind.

I looked up at the trim around the top of my shower and saw blue.

Cold water and green tiles stopped being enough.

I fell to my knees, hearing the sharp sound of metal chipping porcelain. I hugged myself with flesh and auto-mail and sobbed.


	6. Chapter 6

I woke up a couple hours later, curled up on top of my damp covers and hugging a pillow. If the pillow was wet, it was just because I hadn't dried my hair, not because I'd clutched it and sobbed and wailed and the bedroom door was open and I was naked and anyone could walk in and _see_ and--

I barely made it to the bathroom before my stomach emptied itself. I sat back from the toilet and leaned against the bathtub, which only served to remind me why I'd had a mental breakdown... scratch that, I was still in the middle of it. I was shaking violently and the skin and muscle near my ports was tingling. There was also a phantom pain from my right hand, a dangerous sign. It meant that the auto-mail was getting too many conflicting, spastic messages and didn't know what to do with itself, so it hung limp and fed tiny shocks back into my body. I needed to stop trembling or I'd damage my nerves even more, or worst case the discharge would spike and interfere with my vital organs. I needed to breathe, to calm down, to forget what he did to me...

_Which he?_ my masochistic side wondered.

Dry heaves hurt so much more. Especially when accompanied with hyperventilation and violent shudders that just would not stop.

After my stomach was done I crawled around to the other side of my bed, away from the bathroom, and then somehow managed to flip over onto my back. I closed my eyes and tried to stop gasping for breath. I was less than successful. I don't know if I was out for ten minutes or a couple hours, but my breathing had slowed and evened while I was passed out. The tremors were still there, but they were manageable. With some effort I pulled myself up and clumsily threw my blanket around my shoulders, the auto-mail still recovering from the overload. The flesh next to the ports still tingled but the phantom pain was gone.

I made it to the couch and let myself fall, then somehow managed to dial the phone and call in sick to work. It was the first time I'd ever used a sick day, and the receptionist seemed a little worried. I must have sounded worse than I thought, even though I fought to keep my voice even. When I hung up the phone I vowed that I'd get over myself and be back at the lab the next day.

I was out for the rest of the week.

Within ten minutes of getting to my desk on Monday, no less than three of my superiors and one of their secretaries were asking me if I was okay.

_Just don't want their golden goose to die on them_, masochism said.

I paid my lip service and made my excuses and finally they left me to my research. I dug the notes on my most recent project out of my desk. I figured that if I buried myself in my work I'd be able to work off my lingering crippling depression and turn it into productive energy.

Should have known better.

I stomped into archives in search of _something_ that would help me decide which of two arrays to use. In equations this complex there was virtually never two possible solutions that were equally efficient. I doubted I'd found one of the rare exceptions; I just couldn't fucking concentrate. Fucking Roy, fucking Archer, fucking breakdown...

Only my alchemist's reverence for books and knowledge kept me from slamming the old records around. I tried to flip through a few and get the gist of their contents, but I absorbed nothing. After a few unsuccessful attempts of absorbing anything from the yellowed pages I got fed up and just grabbed a few, planning on forcing my brain into gear once I got back to the familiarity of my office.

_It's not that familiar though, is it? Nothing on the walls but arrays, nothing on the desk but pens, nothing at all that would set it apart from a public study..._

I carefully set the texts on the corner of my desk and then dropped into the seat. I leaned back and rubbed my eyes with my flesh hand while the other lay heavy in my lap. I hated it. I hated my scars. My sin. Whatever it was that made everyone...

A few hours later I had given up on the circles, folded my coat into a pillow, and tried to take a nap on my scattered notes.

Nothing worked. Not even my work. For so many years, alchemy had been the one thing that I could count on to be unchanging. Alchemy had always been something that I could fall back on when things got rough. Even if I hit a dead end I would get _somewhere_. Even if I got pissed at it the process would clear my mind.

There was no comfort in the arrays this time. I couldn't even muster up the energy to get mad at the equations or myself. I slogged on through the minutes, building formulas that weren't even close to my standards. They all worked of course, and were more than efficient enough for the State and for regular use. Even though my latest work was still exceptional, it looked raw to me. I knew that if I was thinking clearly I could refine the formula further. It would make little difference to anyone else, since the error was found somewhere around the seventh decimal place, but it mattered to me.

I spent a lot of time wondering when I became such a perfectionist. In my Fullmetal days I knew how to stop tinkering with an equation if it didn't absolutely need more improvement. In those days I made friends as easily as I made enemies. I talked to people, even if it was mostly yelling. I would laugh.

What happened?

Two months after the start of my prolonged mental breakdown, I ran into Roy on the way home from work. It was the first time I'd seen him since that morning spent sobbing on the floor.

I noticed so many things I should have never noticed in the first place. How his hair was still long, but he was taking care of it again. The way he was carrying himself the way he used to, that mix of perfect military posture and womanizer slouch that only he had ever been able to pull off. He wasn't back to his old self, not by a long shot, but he was getting there.

Two months of going through the motions gave me the skill I needed to carry on a pleasant conversation with him while everything under the surface was a chaotic mess. I wanted to strangle him. I wanted to straddle his lap and kiss him breathless. I wanted to stand up and yell that I was the one who made him crawl out of the pit of self-pity he'd dug for himself.

_Nothing will ever be enough. For him, for anyone. __**You**__ will never be enough._

That little masochistic voice was starting to sound a lot like Archer.

After a while he got up from the bench and said something about getting home before it started raining. He left without any promise of seeing each other again as friends or as lovers. He just left. I sat on the bench, feeling... not much at all. It was the deadest I'd felt since Envy ran me through.

I was still sitting there when the first drops started falling. Still there when the sky opened up and it all came down. A true spring 'shower,' one that had the potential to cause floods if they hadn't fixed the storm drains yet.

Almost absently, I watched the rain even as it soaked through my coat. That old familiar worry about water in the auto-mail drifted to the surface and logic lazily shot it down with the old familiar scientific reasons.

The sound blotted out everything else. There was nothing but the rain. Slightly cooler than body temperature, just enough to be refreshing or freezing, depending on your attitude about it. Coming down in torrents. Running down my face.

I slowly got up off the bench and stepped forward, closer to the fountain. Some vague thoughts about the man-made waterfall being overwhelmed by nature drifted through my head, along with dozens of other thoughts that came from nowhere and went nowhere.

I lifted my arms in the air, raised my face to the sky, and breathed.


	7. Chapter 7

Most people used the word 'epiphany' dead wrong. Realizing something is one thing, an epiphany is another. Realizing is a light bulb going on; epiphany is being slammed into a brick wall by a freight train.

I learned the word from Dad's journals when I was five. It was Al and mine's lesson in the P-H letter combination. After spending so long trying to make my mouth say the word, I was damned well going to know what it meant and use it. I never really got it until... that night. After that, other people using the word wrong was always a sore point with me, made worse by the fact that my epiphanies were usually accompanied by an extended hospital stay and some serious emotional trauma. Those people with their dinky light bulbs couldn't come close.

It was years after I stopped yelling at people for using the word wrong, and I had to admit that _maybe_ some of them could have been right.

Standing in the rain hardly qualified as spectacular, but something changed drastically in those moments. Afterwards I went home and took a hot bath before passing out, the exhaustion of the past weeks finally catching up to me. Since I got to bed early and actually slept through the night, I didn't look like a zombie when I went into work the next day. The energy definitely helped in being able to focus on the current project, a cooperative array that would utilize several existing formulas.

After a couple hours I ran into a roadblock. I sat back from it and analyzed the situation, figuring that I'd get through it, but only after a lot of frustration and extra hours put in to meet the deadline.

A thought came to me, and I shuffled through the papers and found the paperwork for one of the component arrays. The name of the lead developer, contact information...

I stared at that information for a long time before I actually reached for the phone. The pause between every ring seemed to take an eternity, but when I heard him pick up the other end it didn't seem like long enough.

"Hello?"

"R... Professor Tringham?"

"Speaking." He sounded distracted, probably working on his own project. The only thing that kept me from hanging up was the teenage brat in me shouting that I couldn't be scared of the imposter.

"I was wondering if I could ask a few questions about one of the arrays you developed."

"And you are?"

"Well... are you holding anything caustic?" The sudden burst of sarcasm felt strange on my tongue.

"Very funny," he said with a definite eye-roll tone, but I heard the sound of glass being set down on a countertop.

"Edward Elric."

There was a long pause that could have meant a number of things. I forced down the urge to hold my breath for it.

"Edward... wow, it's been a while."

I hadn't seen him since the church.

"That's an understatement... anyway, I'm having problems integrating one of your arrays into a composite-"

"Uhg, not again. My super is going to lecture me, _again_, about my arrays playing well with oth-"

"Are you always this professional?"

It just came out, the way my old (admitted) overreactions to any reference to my height used to. Another long pause came from his end and I mentally kicked myself. I jumped when Russel laughed.

"Only when you're the one calling... look, while my super can't do anything to me, he'll waste a lot of my time yelling at me for this."

What he said before finally clicked. "Wait... they'll yell at you for compatibility issues? Anything above the six-point-double will be difficult to integrate into a cooperative array."

"Look, Edward, just because _you're_ lucky enough to be working under other alchemists doesn't mean we all are. My super's the worst kind of accountant and marketing specialist."

I grimaced. "You have my sympathy."

"Speaking of which, I need to get back to work... say, when's your project due?"

"End of the month."

"And where are you?"

"All the component formulas have been initially injected into the cooperative array. Yours is the third of five to be tied in, and then after I finish the 'second draft' I have to tweak everything, of course."

"Five parts? Mine are usually in sevens. What are the specifics for the new array? Oh, yeah, and knowing which of my arrays you're using would probably help too."

I chuckled a bit at that, and came to the passing realization that the laughter came pretty easily. As I paused a moment to sort out the paperwork I wondered if it had always been this easy.

"All right, I have it here... I'm using one of your soil purification formulas. The cooperative will draw deposits of carbon from veins in load bearing walls. It'll take out the carbon and replace it with some other matter. Haven't gotten to what the matter's going to be yet... or what your array's ID is..."

"Is mine the primary or secondary? If it's primary your best bet's probably going to be an alkali earth metal."

"It is primary, and it better not end up being magnesium. My last project had me cursing that damned metal from here to Xing and back."

"You have to respect the magnesium. _Love_ the magnesium."

"Strontium's the only alkali earth metal for me."

"You would be on the fifth row of th... yes sir, I _am_ working..."

He took the receiver away from his mouth to talk to the other person, assumedly the marketing supervisor, and I remembered that I was supposed to be looking for his array's ID. Russel managed to brush off his superior a couple minutes after I found the number, which I didn't find quickly. My sympathy went up exponentially.

"I'll never think badly of my superiors again," I said when he finally got away.

"Yeah, I'm getting close to asking my financier for a new contact. Nagging about deadlines is one thing, but interfering to the point of delaying the research is another."

"Well, I don't want to get you in any more trouble. Can I schedule some time? It's the JH-MP3-0045, by the way."

"Oh, that monster," he mumbled over the rasp of shifting paper. "Well, tell you what, I've been needing to go to Central for a few things. Will this weekend work? I'd roll in around noon."

"Sure. I'll pick you up at the station and we can get lunch."

"Sounds good. I'll get things set up and call you with the details. When's good?"

"Ah..." I chewed my lip and sighed uncertainly. "I'll give you my home number. Any time after seven."

I gave him the number that only Al and Winry knew and wondered if it would still come easy when we were face to face.


	8. Chapter 8

The drive to the station was torture. With every city block that gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach got worse and worse. I didn't know what to expect; last time he saw me go through a door I didn't come back out again. Before that was Xenotime, where we threw things at each other and ran for our lives. Then there were half-remembered things Al said about him, from after-Germany, but even though Al was good friends with Fletcher he was still only acquaintances with Russel.

_There was a time when I'd run headlong into an unknown situation, making sure to piss off as many people as I could in the process. Now I'm shaking in the face of seeing Russel Tringham for the first time in years. I must be getting old._

I caught myself being way too precise about parking my car in an unconscious effort to put off the inevitable and got irritated at my own nervousness. I stomped into the station, feeling more like my old self than I had in years. It helped, somehow, and I had to consciously make myself walk like a professional adult as I rounded the corner to the track area.

I saw him get off the train, a light-blond blot against the sea of brown and black hats, carrying both a well worn duffel and a briefcase with a scorch mark up one side. I made my way over and there we were, standing face to face. I was a little relieved to note that while he was _still_ taller than me the difference had shrunk to an acceptable level. Once that superficial observation was out of the way I could see the faint, early worry lines on his brow, the chronically fatigued look to his eyes, the way he seemed to slump even though he had perfect posture.

_So much in common already_, I thought to myself, only half-sarcastic. I started to realize how much I'd unconsciously hoped that Russel and I might become friends, or at least, have some professional relationship. _Now I __**know**__ I'm getting old, to be so pathetically lonely..._ but then he was making his appraisal of my progression to the ripe old age of twenty-two, and it looked like he might have seen the similarity too. For the first time since that morning, lying on my stomach with Roy sprawled on me and holding me so possessively, I let myself hope for something... something that _meant_ something.

"Ah... hello?" I said, almost wincing at the unsure tone.

"Hi, uh, good to see you... well."

I got the feeling that it was originally _'good to see you alive'_ in his mind. Kinda made me nostalgic for the days when I didn't give a damn about sugar-coating what I said.

"You too." I held my arm out in the vague direction of the car. "I know a good place to eat."

----------

I parked in my usual space at work, dropped Russel's personal things off in my office, and walked the block to a great soup and salad place I'd come to frequent. We were seated in a corner booth and once we ordered our lunch we spread our sorcery over the table. Once we got into the equation at hand the awkwardness fell away. It was obvious that Russel took as much pleasure in the work itself as I did; all my coworkers seemed to see the alchemy only as a tedious means to an end. With him I didn't have to couch my excitement at getting another component to click, and that was nice.

Of course it also meant there was no one to remind us to _go home_, and before I knew it the waitress was asking if we'd be joining them for dinner. It wasn't the first time I'd stayed working that long but the staff didn't mind, in fact, they seemed to think it was neat that one of the state researchers found their restaurant to be so helpful to his work. Russel seemed a little flustered at the news, but that faded to relieved and amused when he realized this was a common occurrence with me.

"Wow," he said as the waitress walked away to the kitchen, "they're more understanding of obsessive researchers in Central."

"Just this place, and only because they think I'm funny. And because I eat here at least twice a week." I realized I was smiling, talking easily, feeling relaxed. It had been a while.

"At least _this_ is almost done," Russel said as he gestured to our papers, his tone implying a strong love/hate relationship with said formulas. "Maybe I _should_ force myself into a number that fits into everyone else's equations."

I frowned at that. "Sevens might not be the norm, but I could tell that you were wired for it when I first met you."

"Really? When we _first_ met?"

The surprise was evident and well founded. We first met in a dark library, I was breaking and entering, he was masquerading as me, and I tried very hard to break his jaw before fleeing in the face of incoming security.

"Okay, maybe the second day," I amended, "When we were fighting and you were chalking out your circles. You seemed a little clumsy on the symmetry."

"Probably helps that my notes were scattered everywhere."

"Al is the one," I paused to accept my diner, "who looks at stuff like that."

He laughed and I looked at him quizzically.

"Heh. It's just..." He raised his coffee as if toasting me, "you really are incredible."

The admiration that once made me swell with pride had become another mark of my sin. I'd gotten my brother's body back but I could never atone for the things I did. On the other side of things, the other side of the Gate, I'd lost the egotistical brashness that carried me though those years.

Russel's expression faded to a questioning concern and I knew I let my discomfort show. I mentally kicked myself and tried to hide it before realizing that he wasn't judging me by it. In my ghostlike weeks after the breakdown I had my fill of people judging me for my well earned insecurities, people who could never understand where it was all coming from, but with him... maybe it was because I knew he had his demons too. Maybe they weren't water monsters with his mother's face, but I think his ranked above average. Maybe he could understand 'the sins of the father' better than most.

The void in me, ripped out by so many things, was starting to really ache. I wasn't free of that breakdown and what caused it, not by a long shot. Things were getting better but thinking all these dark thoughts and doubting the hope that he would want to be more than a professional contact... it was not a road I needed to go down in the middle of a crowded restaurant.

Russel saved me, pulling me back into the mass of papers and the cooling soup among the formulas. I had to be the picture of uneasiness but he never said anything about it and he never showed the slightest hint of pity. That was the important thing. Pity does not help. At least, it doesn't help me.

Working together we managed to complete the finer design by the time we finished our lemon cake. I would have gotten it eventually, but this was better. Not only did two scientific minds work though things more efficiently, but I never realized how much I missed just _talking_ to another human being. I just never tried because I always felt so isolated. Sometimes it felt like I was still in Germany. In London with a burning wreck falling on my head.

Working with Russel that one afternoon was like an alarm going off. Yeah, I've seen things that most people can only dream about. I've done things that no one else in my world has ever had a chance to experience. I knew what it was like to dig up your mother's grave and I knew what it was like to _fly_.

All these things would make a really close relationship hard. But being friends with someone? Working associates? That, I could do.


	9. Chapter 9

He called the next week to cash in the favor for some help on his current project. Deliberately and effectively weakening an array's effect isn't exactly easy, and I am the leading researcher in the field. Even though we had to talk each other through the array design (and I am definitely a visual learner) we got the problem solved pretty quickly. I was almost sad to hang up, even though I had a new project to work on. Even if our discussion was strictly business, I was _talking_ to someone. It was a start.

We stayed in touch. It started with those every other week calls about arrays, but after a while the discussions grew. It was still all alchemy, but it was alchemy that wasn't directly related to the question at hand. When the calls grew to a regular once a week, lasting for an hour or more each, I got a lecture. My superior was justified in her irritation, so I promised to stop using the lab's time and start writing letters after hours.

Our letters started like our phone calls: long and full of alchemical formulas. He was the first one to break the routine, adding a couple paragraphs about how his little brother was doing. It turned out that Fletcher was traveling to the same town Al was living in at the time, so I passed the message on. Al was thrilled that I was making actual human contact. Overly so. But then again I was pretty pleased with it as well.

After that the personal sections grew to almost the size of the alchemy; we were still obsessive scientists after all. His stories about his crazy girlfriend were enough to make me very glad that I was okay with the 'company' of men. My social life was still non-existent. Russel joined my brother in bugging me to talk to people that actually lived in the same city.

It took a while. I guess I was even more messed up than I thought, if that was even possible. Major trust issues. But eventually I started talking to my co-workers. They didn't really know what to do with me at first, but once we all got used to each other it wasn't that bad. I maintained about the same productivity rating, but with a lot less stress attached. It was nice.

I was fine working with them, even some joking and the occasional coffee after work. Still, I never connected with any of them the way I did with Russel. It was the first time I felt really chained by the terms of my probation, mostly the 'you can't leave the city' part. Visiting him was out, and I felt stupid every time I started absently wondering how I could get him to come to Central.

I don't know if he picked up on something in one of our calls or letters. I still wasn't to the point where I could believe that he just wanted to come see his friend. But, three months after that sorta-first meeting he rode in on the train to Central. He didn't tell me why he was visiting, just to come get him at the station.

As soon as he got to me I had an arm slung around my shoulder.

"Um, hi, can I help you?" I said half-jokingly; I was still a little touchy about people touching my auto-mail.

He never flinched. He was smiling, laughing, and it was very contagious. I relaxed.

"Yeah, shut up, Ed. That place still open? It better be because I am craving some potato soup."

I tried to look as offended as possible. "I would _never_ let them close that place down. Car's this way."

He refused to tell me his reasons for coming on the ride over, blatantly ignoring my questions and talking about our brothers instead. About halfway there I gave up and joined in. There really wasn't much we didn't both already know since Al and Fletcher were then traveling together, and both of us got full reports of all their adventures. It made me nostalgic, to tell the truth. The freedom of the road, not being tied to a lab and a city that lost its charm a long time ago...

I think Russel caught on because he abruptly changed the topic to work. Alchemy was the eternal safe zone, and we spent most of our dinner and dessert arguing the finer points of water purification arrays as they applied to agriculture. We were still at it when we got in the car, and I was a block away from my place before I realized where my instinct was taking me.

"Ack, sorry, I forgot to ask what hotel you're staying in?"

"The Elric Inn and Suites."

I looked at him with a raised eyebrow as I put the car in park.

"Come on, I'll sleep on your couch."

"I wasn't kidding when I wrote about how small my living space is."

"I insist. It has to do with my surprise." I think he was trying to pull of intrigue, but he just looked like an excited little kid.

I found I couldn't say no. Not that I wasn't going to put up the illusion of a fight. "You mean if I let you sleep on my couch you'll actually tell me why you're here?"

"Yup."

"_Fine_. Get out of the car before my crazy neighbor thinks we're cutting a drug deal or dead."

We got out and he grabbed his bags. "I remember that. I bet the cops were thrilled to knock on _your_ door."

"Actually, none of them knew who I was. It was kind of nice..."

Once I gave him the very short tour, he rummaged around in his bag and pulled out two badly gift-wrapped bottles.

"Happy Birthday!"

I didn't know if he was going crazy or if I was. "Russel, I was born in the winter. It's the middle of summer."

He pulled the wrapping off one bottle and handed it to me, that happy kid look still on his face. "Yeah, but that day belongs to the Hughes girl. This is your new birthday, to be shared in glorious drunkenness."

I eyed the bottle of rum in my hand. "You think you're pretty clever right now, don't you?"

"I know I'm clever right now."

Letting go, getting pleasantly drunk, sharing my not-birthday with... he was my best friend, wasn't he?

"_You_ know I'm clever right now," he said, breaking me out of my thoughts.

I grinned like I was fifteen again. "We'll see how clever you are once that bottle's gone, Tringham."

There was that smug look that greeted me in a dark library so many years ago. "Why, Elric, those are fighting words."

I cracked the seal, took a burning swig, and tapped my bottle against his.

"Yes. They are."


	10. Chapter 10

Russel's birthday surprise ended with the both of us slumped on the floor sharing a fit of uncontrollable giggles. We also shared a whopping hangover the next day. Still, even though my head was pounding and everything looked too bright I was still smiling. I felt... free. It wasn't the freedom of the open road that I never really appreciated in my teenage years; it was more of an adult compromise, a half-freedom. I decided I could live with that.

The more time I spent with Russel, even just in letters and phone calls, the easier it got to _talk_ to people. I actually socialized with my coworkers. I learned my supervisor's name, and that she had five children at home and that her husband was a painter. That 'can I borrow your chalk' guy has an obsession with ancient mythology and cats. For the first time in forever I was seeing _people_, not just job titles.

I could accept the state of my life. Sure, I was tied to the lab until I was 50, but I could deal with it. I endured worse to keep Al out of things, a _lot_ worse... and it was all worth it. It's not like he didn't see a lot of the same things I did, bad things, but it's like it never touched him that deep. Maybe because I tried to absorb as much of it as I could. At least, I liked to think that I had something to do with it. That it... that it meant something. He probably would have turned out great even if I sucked at the job, though. That's just how Al is, and I wouldn't change it for anything.

He and Fletcher had their adventures, traveling everywhere... I'm man enough to admit that I was jealous as hell of them, jealous of Fletch for having that journey with Al when there wasn't a dark sin hanging over their heads... but I learned how to deal with it.

Besides, I had Russel to keep me company on the boring, realistic path of life. Over the course of our visits I confided in him. Things only Al knew, and only because he was there. When I started telling him about the other side, about Germany, Alphons... his eyebrows might have climbed to new heights but he never looked at me like I was crazy. I needed that.

It was a cool night in early fall, another visit. By that point he stopped pretending that business was calling him to Central, and I stopped pretending that I had a project due in three days. It was just that I was tied to the city by the terms of my probation... and he just wanted to see me. We were up on the roof of my house taking swigs from a shared bottle, staring at the stars. I told him... something I never even told Al because I felt so silly trying to work out the words in my own head. It was without a doubt the best memory of the other side. I fumbled with my words, both due to the buzz and the fact that it was so extraordinary.

"'s like..." I reached for words that couldn't come close to doing it justice, "like there's nothing. No world, no ties." I gestured to the sky. "Jus' you and the wind."

"Wow," was his response, the awe evident so I must have done a good job describing it through the alcohol. "Wonder how long it'll take us to have it."

I shrugged, a motion lost in the dark and lying down. "We have technology they don't, they have technology we don't. Alchemy let us go places they didn't... and so they went another way, right?"

Rus sighed and edged closer, probably after my body heat. "What don't they have?"

I considered and took another swig for warmth, already pleasantly buzzed. "Well, auto-mail is a big one."

"Hmm?"

"They really only have peg legs out there. Dad made me prosthetic limbs that would be laughed at anywhere over here. To them it was like something out of a fantasy. I had to keep them hidden."

"You do that anyway," he said. "'s dumb." I felt my shirt move; he must have touched my right arm. "Shows how much you care 'bout Al. Shows how good you are."

He never once saw my auto-mail as the physical proof of my shame. Ever since I told him... everything... to him it's always been the symbol of how much I cared about my brother. Sometimes, times like that night, I could almost believe him.

I turned my head to look at him, lying there with his arm against mine. Even thought I couldn't feel it, I could, or something else corny like that. His bright blue eyes were bright with understanding, or companionship, or maybe just the whiskey; whatever it was, they shone. I smiled at him, grateful, and then I traced the curve of his answering smile with my eyes. I felt comfortably warm all the way to the core. That's always how it was when I was with him. It wasn't quite like flying, but it was close.

~~*~~

A week later I bolted upright, hands automatically snapping to my mouth, the metal one almost taking out a tooth. I was shaking, feverish, and blue spots mockingly danced in front of my eyes. It wasn't the first time it happened, not by a _long_ shot, but this time...

There were the cobalt blue tiles arranged the simple geometric pattern forever burned into my memory, but there was also something else. A brighter blue burning like a flame, sharp and soft all at once... and then there was a pale hand standing out in contrast against my tanned stomach, sunny hair mingling with the darker gold curls at the base, my whispered name...

"No..." I said, the word muffled by my fingers still clamped tight over stinging lips. "No," I said again, as if it would change what my familiar nightmare morphed into. "No no no _no_," Over and over, begging someone, anyone, that it wasn't true.

I sank back to the pillows, my arms flopping down at my sides. I stared at the ceiling and tried to will away the images of both dark and bright blue. The old nightmare faded away and the new one was brought into focus.

"I screw our friendship up," I said to the ceiling. There was a hard, terrible ache between my legs but I couldn't afford to indulge this new fantasy, this new attraction. "I _can't_ lose Russel."

I sat there, hunched over myself and my hands still glued over my mouth, until the adrenaline faded away along with the painful throb of arousal. I flopped back to the pillows and passed out almost immediately.


	11. Chapter 11

In the morning I felt a little dumb for how much despair I was feeling the night before. Yes, I had a.... an extremely _detailed_ dream about my best friend. There was a simple explanation: I hadn't so much as jerked off in half a year, so my hormones demanded release and my subconscious used him because, well, he _is_ attractive. It probably had something to do with trust too; I'd never be able to be in a relationship with someone I couldn't turn my back to, and I know he has mine.

So my body was telling me I needed a boyfriend. Problem was that I couldn't figure out a way to even tell who my options were.

After that last brush with The Gate I could sense a lot about people before they ever opened their mouths, the alchemist's sixth sense in overdrive. During my travels it was still just a very strong gut feeling that usually turned out to be right, but now... sometimes it was like there were labels marking people as caring, or basically good but misguided, all the way to the darker end of the spectrum. I could usually tell when someone was in love or just had their heart broken, if they have kids, all sorts of things. But I was never able to see the 'homosexual' label. I even tried. Looking at myself was almost pointless since I couldn't be objective, but I couldn't see anything specific on Roy either.

Of course, there always was the up-front method, but I was a lot less reckless than I was in my younger days. Instigating revolution was par for the course as a teenager, but now... I wouldn't risk it.

The months passed. There were a few repeats of the dream, but they were always fast and blurred and not much for the foreplay, which relieved me. Pure sex was just hormones rattling the bars, but intimacy could be the sign of feelings that needed to be squashed. But since there was never anything soft I was still safe. In fact, approaching the problem with far too scientific an outlook as usual, I started thinking that my mind was just replaying nights with Roy. A couple moments did seem oddly familiar. I was probably subconsciously replacing the face because Roy's sure as _hell_ never touching me again. Nothing to worry about, at least, not much. The next time Russel visited I might have to make sure the door was closed and possibly padded with something so he didn't hear me calling his name in my sleep, but other than that...

That was something that bothered me, though. What would he think about my attraction to men? Would that be it for our friendship, would it just be awkward, would he just look at me like I was crazy for thinking it would change anything? I optimistically hoped for the awkward option and spent my free time wondering about it. He already knew a lot of horrible things about me. Why a third of me is metal, sins of the father, even digging up my own mother's grave. I told him everything... almost.

I've wanted to tell him about what it was like after Roy left. How hard it was to just exist. How grateful I was that he visited with me that weekend because I really don't know where I'd be without him. Just... so someone would _know_. It seemed important, somehow, telling him how far I fell those months, like it would close the door on it for good. But telling him how hard it was would mean telling him _why_ it was hard, and I wasn't ready to do that. Not to mention that he might ask things like 'was he your first' and I really don't know how good I'd be at lying to him. I don't know if I'd ever be ready to share that bad memory with him or anyone.

It stayed on my mind all the way to his next visit four months later. I picked him up and we went to the café as usual; by this point they were starting to recognize him and remember his usual orders despite the fact that there was so much time between his visits. We caught up at the restaurant, quickly melting into his recent breakup. Well, recently ended; the breakup had been going on for a couple of months. It wasn't like Russel didn't see it coming, but now that it was actually _over_ it was hitting him all at once.

I knew how he felt. Roy and I were still 'together' in our strange relationship for several weeks after that night, and even though it was clear that he was already gone it didn't sink in until later. I wondered, on the drive home, if I would have handled it better with a solid ending, like fight like Russel had with whatshername. It seemed like Rus was almost over her, minus the requisite yelling, where I went on for months like a zombie.

Water under the bridge. If my dreams were any indication, replacing Roy with the most prevalent male in my present life, I was finally over him.

"Sorry for going on like this," he said when we crossed the threshold. "We haven't even talked about work yet..."

I glared at him. "Rus, shut up. She's an idiot for leaving you and _you're_ an idiot for thinking I mind you ranting about it. It's part of the healing process. Let out the rage."

I didn't expect him to hug me. "Ed, you're the best."

Of course the view over his shoulder was at the bedroom and my subconscious decided to get irritating in response to the proximity, but I squashed it and it stayed squashed. I breathed a sigh of relief as I wrapped my arms around him; while I knew the dreams weren't dangerous I was worried that my pent up hormones would decide otherwise.

It was lucky too, because Russel didn't need any more awkward coming from me once he started crying into my shoulder. Maybe not quite as over her as his earlier angry words implied. I patted his back and tried to figure out some way of comforting him that didn't involve an odd angle for the both of us while my teenage insecurity cursed the height difference. Once he let go for a second I put him on the couch and went to the kitchen to fetch a slice of cherry pie and a tall glass of hard liquor.

"You know me so well," he said without even a touch of sarcasm. I sat down next to him and he slumped to lean his head on my shoulder while he nibbled at his pie and gulped down his drink. I rested my head against his and he talked while I listened, talking about good times, fights, all those little annoyances he overlooked when he still loved her that turned into mountains on the other side of the relationship.

I didn't say much. He needed to get it out, bleed the poison out of his system, and anything I'd say at that point would just draw it out longer. I could do to speed the recovery except supply pie and alcohol and a sympathetic ear, but I could be good at that.


	12. Chapter 12

We ended up on the roof once he sobered up enough to make the climb. It seemed like he'd gotten most of it out of his system, still looking sad every once in a while but generally acting okay. He was in the last stages of dropping buzz and was still retaining some of that affectionate drunk by lying right next to me and resting his head against my real shoulder, but my hormones kept quiet. I stated wondering if my libido was lulling me into a false sense of security, and then the image of Lust waiting with fingers already extended sprang to mind and I wondered if I really escaped it all as clean as I thought I did.

"Hey... Ed?"

I glanced down at the mass of light blond obscuring my left shoulder. "Yeah?"

"Why haven't you got a girlfriend?"

I glared at the sky as if there was actually a god to blame this on.

"I..." _well, here you go, genius. Perfect opportunity to screw things up._ "I guess I never really found a girl I really liked."

"What about that one girl, you know, from the desert? I thought you liked her."

"Roze," I answered without really thinking because I was thinking about that more-than-a-little unsettling dance down in the buried city right before Dante made her appearance and things went from worse to an alternate dimension's version of worse.

"Did you try?" he asked as he stretched all sleepy like.

I looked at the stars, at nothing, for a long time. If there was ever a girl I thought I might be able to be with, it would be her. After Roy and figuring where my preferences lie I'm not so sure I'd be able to _be_ with her in the carnal sense, but emotionally...

"I..." the pattern of the tiles appeared for a second, just to remind me. "Look, she had her own baggage. So much she went mute for a while. She didn't need any of mine."

Russel fought to prop himself up on his arm so he could look at me. He looked at me like he does a formula that didn't do what he thought it would but hadn't pissed him off yet.

"Ed..." he looked like he was trying to put something delicately, which wasn't a good sign. We're guys; we shouldn't have to couch our words. "Ed, look... just promise me you won't go forever without even trying because of your past, okay?"

He was serious. Dead serious. Not even a hint of that inappropriate drunken humor, no trace of sarcasm. My best friend was seriously worried I'd never have someone because I was afraid of letting them know how screwed up I am.

"Russel..."

He was right. Dead right.

"I can't promise that."

He sighed and flopped back down, probably too tired and residually drunk to put as much irritation into it as he wanted to.

"Russel?"

"Mmn?"

I wondered if this was the best time. Him half incapacitated and almost lying on me, in the dark, right after he just wore himself raw over his stupid ex...

"Look..."_Just __**say**__ it!_ "It's not just my past that's keeping me from trying."

"Hmm?"

"I'm not really into girls."

"What, you reproduce asexually? By budding like yeast?" It sounded like he tried to blow his bangs out of his eyes, which is what he does when he thinks he's clever.

"_No_."

"Does _it_ not work?" He sounded like he was close to giggles. I shoved him away, a touch of that spirit of impetuous youth coming back to me in my irritation.

"No, idiot, I'm trying to be serious here! I like..." I remembered the neighbors at the last second and switched to a whisper. "I like men."

There. It was out. Now just to wait for a minute that feels like an hour until he makes some indication of where we're going from there...

"Oh."

I didn't know if 'oh' was bad or good. The tone was pretty flat.

"So..." he said slowly, twisting again to look at me, "that thing with you and Mustang...?"

He already knew what happened between us, except I replaced the sex with regular fights. He'd always pause with this almost puzzled look on his face if I ever said anything about Roy, so I think he suspected that I was hiding something about it.

"Yes," I replied after a few moments. "We were... it just happened, and then we kept going because we both just needed to _feel_..." I swallowed hard. "Are we...?"

The wait was only a few seconds, but it seemed like a lifetime.

"One of the biggest arguments I had with her," he started, "and recurring at that, was about this girl at my office who I know. She'd keep saying that if I really loved her I'd never talk to my friend again." I already knew this story from the letters documenting the way their relationship fell off a cliff and onto sharp rocks. "If I can be just friends with a girl why can't you be just friends with a guy?"

I actually sagged into the roof with relief. I didn't even realize how much it had been worrying me until the weight came off my shoulders.

"So..." he yawned, stretching contently with forced nonchalance, "am I dreamy?"

I rolled my eyes and replied, with the proper sarcasm, "Didn't you hear me say I didn't like girls? You _are_ pretty though, and I'm sure you'll find a big strong man to carry you into the sunse--"

I was cut off by his arm forcibly flopping down onto my stomach. I sat up and returned the favor, and we entered into a wrestling match only slightly tempered by the fact that we were on the roof. It was almost too good to believe, him accepting it so easily, and I kept worrying that I was going to wake up. But in the morning it was still real, including his grumpy hangover sprinkled with the proper anger directed at his ex.

Only one big secret he didn't know. I didn't think I'd ever tell him that one.


	13. Chapter 13

Russel didn't feel any different about my being homosexual in the morning. He did mention that it explained a lot about that look I get when anyone mentions Roy, but mostly he just spent most of the early hours being properly venomous and moody about his ex.

After lunch he was a little less frothing at the mouth and he could tell there was something else I needed to say. So he asked and I told him about those months I spent sleepwalking, not even knowing what was wrong or how to fix it, feeling even more detached from the rest of the world than ever and by the end it was all just a rush of words and I didn't even realize I was crying until he reached out to wipe the tears away. Then it was his turn to comfort me for a broken heart that I didn't even realize was still broken.

Once my breathing evened out we had a conversation where he pointed out all the things he never liked about Roy, even though he only met him twice, and I would agree and add on other things and it was _really nice_ to have that bitterness and spite out in the open. It was like Russel's recovery condensed down to an hour and a half. When I calmed down I felt so much better. I got rid of a weight I didn't even know I was carrying.

When I saw him off that evening, it really hit me that he knew more about me than my own brother. When Al and I were younger it didn't seem possible that there would ever be anyone who could rank that high, be that close. In my mind, the only way it could happen was if we had a serious falling out. During our travels for the Stone, the thought of growing apart from my brother was terrifying. Losing him, even a little... I thought it would be the end of me.

Standing there on the platform, watching the train pull away... it didn't seem so bad. Like maybe this was supposed to happen. Maybe it was just a part of growing up. I'd bet all that I knew more about Russel than Fletcher did at that point; after all, Rus came to _me_ after that witch turned him out. And Al and Fletch were probably the same way. It still felt strange, knowing that I'd call Russel before Al if something big happened, and that Al would probably call Fletcher before he called me, but it wasn't a negative strange. It was just... there.

I guess that's the way real life is after all the explosions die down. And as much as my heart and soul longed for the freedom open road when I first got back home... I found the normal a lot more comforting. For the first time since I was chained to Central there wasn't anything angry attached to the whole idea. I was content.

Heh. Maybe miracles do happen.

~~*~~

The months went by as a blur of projects and letters and then it was summer again. My not-birthday was two weeks later than it was the year before due to scheduling conflicts, but it's not like the exact date really mattered to us. By midnight we ended up on my living room floor slouched against the side of the couch.

"So, you're saying that you've never done _anything_ with a girl?"

I made an awkward gesture of nonchalance, the liquor in my glass sloshing on the rug. "I've fought with Winry, I've gotten stared down by Hawkeye and let me tell you that is _not_ fun-"

"You know what kind of anything I'm talking about, _Edward._"

"Yes, I know, _Russel_. And no, never even kissed a girl. Well, you know, past a couple pecks on the lips when I was a little kid and those don't count."

Russel emphatically nodded in agreement. He tended to get really animated right before he got really lethargic, so I started working up a plan to take the bottle out of his hand before he fell asleep on me and spilled it all in my lap like last time.

"So did you always knew?"

I shook my head "Naw. Figured it out after the whole Roy thing."

"So, scientifically speaking, you don't know for certain that you can't be turned on by a woman?"

See, dangerous things happen when you get two obsessive alchemists really drunk. We start applying the process to things it shouldn't be applied to.

"Question is: why would I want to? They talk in riddles and don't even know it and get all moody and then tell you nothing's wrong and they expect all guys to be mind readers. Hell, even _Winry_ does that stuff and she's a giant tomboy and thus acceptable company." I took another swig and a thought occurred. "_Besides_, by your logic, doesn't that mean that you don't know if you can or can't be turned on by a guy?"

"You have a point there," he said, trying to look thoughtful and ending up looking silly. "_Two_ points. Women are strange, strange creatures, and I can't know for sure. Scientifically speaking."

We'd _definitely_ had enough drink for one night.

"Obviously we need to test this," I said with as much seriousness as I could muster. "I'll go kiss a woman and you go kiss a man and then we'll compare data."

He laughed. "Your side of the experiment won't be that hard to execute. _Mine_ will be really fucking difficult."

"Yeah you'll probably get punched a lot."

"And you'd be laughing."

"_Hell yes I would_. Also, guess why I'm not even trying to get laid."

He slumped against me a little, the fatigue starting to set in.

"Yeah, Ed, you're the only gay guy either of us knows."

"Well, that we know of. One of us could know a guy who is but he's got it hid for self-preservation." I tilted my head back and moaned to the ceiling, "I'm never getting a boyfriend."

Russel's head rolled onto my shoulder. I blindly reached for his bottle, grabbed it, and after a moment's consideration I took another swig.

"You know," he said, the tired slur definitely setting in. "I could kiss you."

"Hmph. Yeah right."

"Well, really, why not? I mean, there's nothing between us, obviously, so it's not like it'll mean anything. I hyposh-ith-think that I won't be disgusted and'll stay unaffected in the other areas."

"Scientifically speaking," I replied loftily, pride getting in the way of sense, "you don't know that I won't be such a good kisser that I'll leave you shocked."

"So... we're trying it?"

It only took four words to shatter everything.

"What can it hurt?"

He moved away from the couch and turned so he was leaning towards me on hands and knees, swaying back and forth and steadying himself by grabbing my metal shoulder. His face was all serious, at least, he was trying, and all I did was raise the bottle and toast to science and I obviously had _way_ too much to drink and didn't realize it because I went through with it.

He leaned in and closed his eyes, and I followed suit. We sort of missed the first time, with how unsteady he was and uncoordinated we both were. We tried again and it started all right, just messy pressure, but then he parted his lips and I figured that yeah, the experiment wouldn't be complete without it, and we were kissing. Awkward, wet, clumsy, and so I raised my left hand to hold his face steady, and he scooted forward so he could sit on his legs and be a little less wobbly, and then his hand was cupping my cheek, and when we finally broke apart we were both out of breath.

I stared at him, wide eyed, hormones growling in their cage but it was more than that. My chest felt tight and I started breathing hard for more than the lack of oxygen. The shock kept me frozen while he hovered there with his eyes still closed, absently chewing on his lower lip and I just reeled because I didn't have any damn warning, no say, just all of a sudden I had to deal with the fact that _I was in love with my best friend._

I still hadn't recovered when he opened his eyes, those clear blue eyes, and then they fluttered shut again and he leaned in with his lips parted.


	14. Chapter 14

I jumped up on instinct and Russel fell against the couch but I hardly noticed. I was across the room and slamming my bedroom door before I even knew I was moving. I stared at the opposite wall for a moment or two before my brain caught up with my gut and I collapsed against the door. I touched my still-tingling lips as my legs gave way. By the time I finished sliding down to the floor I had both hands clamped over my mouth, right hand held so tight over my left I was sure I was drawing blood but I was beyond caring.

_I'm in love with Russel_, I was thinking, and there was no way I could even try to deny it. I was so stupid not to see it before. He was naturally physically affectionate, but I never even let Al touch me this much. Leaning against each other when we're on the couch, unnecessary nudges when we were out and about, hell we'd even end up laying on each other when we were up on the roof and I never saw it coming. I told him all my worst secrets and he never turned away. I let myself trust him and that left the gap in my defenses to lead to _this_.

I was still sitting like that, hands over my mouth and eyes shut as I tried to find some way to refuse to believe, to pass it all off as the alcohol and hormones, when Russel softly tapped at the door. I couldn't make my throat work, hell, could hardly keep from _crying_ because of how screwed I was, so I sat there without making a sound.

"Ed?" I heard, Russel's voice muffled through the door. "Ed, please, talk to me."

I tried, I really did, but I couldn't make a sound.

"Ed, I'm so sorry, I didn't know this would happen... please talk to me. Please don't tell me I just lost my best friend."

The hint of despair in his voice, audible even through the door, made me feel like I was being stabbed through the heart. And I knew what being run through felt like. I couldn't stand to hear him like that, so I forced my hands away from my face and took a deep breath.

"Rus, I..." and then my voice broke and I couldn't keep going. It was like my throat was closing up, like I was drowning or suffocating or being smothered and knew that this was the relative calm before the storm. The panic was getting closer and it would only be a matter of time before I was hyperventilating on the floor with phantom pains and my auto-mail shocking me in confusion.

"Edward, please don't shut me out. Let me _fix_ this, or try, or just... please don't shut me out, _please_..."

My alchemist sense was telling me how much distress he was in. Not as distressed as I was, granted, but I could tell he was shaking. I knew I didn't have any choice that wasn't going to go bad, so I raised my trembling hand and I turned the knob, pushing the door open just enough for him to see it and then I wrapped both arms around myself. There was a rush of cooler air as he swung the door open and then his chest was warm against my back as he hugged me, and I didn't know if I wanted him there but I was pretty sure I needed it as the world collapsed to a pinpoint and the numbing, all encompassing terror set in.

~~*~~

I blacked out for a while, and when I came to we were both on the bed and he was sitting with me on his lap, rocking us back and forth while he stroked my hair. I didn't say anything for a long time because I just felt so safe with him. Safer than I'd felt since I first opened that door that can't be closed. Since I first saw the thing that I made in my mother's reflection. Since I realized what price had to be paid to make the Stone. Since I saw that particular sunset, puking up my guts by a tree before stumbling back to the open grave.

I clutched at him and silently begged the memories to go away.

"Ed?" his loose hold tightened. "Ed, you've just been limp until now. Are... are you coming back to me?"

So personal, so worried, so much concern in his voice... I remembered what triggered this whole thing. Being too close to him. Letting him get in. I should have pushed him away, but in that moment I cared more about making him feel better than protecting myself.

"Rus, don't worry." I pushed myself up to look at his face and almost choked when I saw those eyes rimmed in red. I reached out to touch his wet cheek with my good hand without thinking about it. "Please don't worry."

"Don't worry?" he reached up and held my hand against his face. "Ed, you were twitching and not even making a sound past a whimper. I... is this how your breakdown over Mustang went?"

Lancing phantom pain was still shooing up my missing limbs. "Yes. This is how it went."

"And I made it happen," he mumbled, looking down and closing his eyes.

There was a touch of self-loathing to the pain in his voice that I wasn't going to stand for. I moved closer and pressed our foreheads together, my hand still on his cheek and his still over mine.

"Russel, look at me, _please_." He did, and the self-disgust was so much more evident in his eyes. "You know how screwed up I am. This... it was probably only a matter of-"

"_Edward_," he said as he reached up and grabbed my metal shoulder with his free hand, automatically shifting it to rest at the crook of my neck where I could actually feel it. "I kissed you and you ran in here and had a panic attack that was... I almost took you to the hospital but I knew you'd hate anyone seeing you like that."

"You're the only one I trust enough to see me like this." And that really was the truth. I never told Al about the first breakdown or those months spent sleepwalking. "I love you, Russel."

The words slipped out without me thinking and I felt the panic creeping back.

"I love you too, Ed. You're my best friend." He smiled even though he looked so hopeless. "I'll never find another you."

When he took it as a different kind of love the fear died down to a suppressible level. I breathed a sigh of relief and smiled back. "The world can't handle two of me."

I suddenly realized how we were sitting, almost the way we were when we kissed, and I couldn't pull away. It felt too natural, too right, too _safe_. I could already bet that I'd never be like this with anyone else. Letting him in left me raw and I might never have the strength to do it again. It hit me that this was as close as I was getting to being happy with someone. Taking all the comfort he'd offer and never telling him what kind of love I was feeling.

Tears made hot tracks down my face. "Russel, this was coming. It's not your fault and you have to _believe_ that. The kiss... it was the last feather on a mountain of lead."

"But _why__?_" he asked and I could feel his breath against my lips. "Why did it set you off?"

I couldn't lie to him. I couldn't lie to anyone, unless I was being a smartass at the same time, and I couldn't do that to him. I'd just omit the big thing and make it two big secrets that I hadn't told him. Blue tiles and the fact that I _loved_ him and knowing that I'd never be with him hurt me more than anything ever had.

"Rus... I'm lonely. I know that it's going to be a long time before I find another guy like me, let alone a guy I actually like. That kiss we just shared..." my lips still tingled, "... it's probably going to have to last me a while."

He looked like he wanted to argue, press me for the real reason, but he slumped, and accepted it, and pulled me into a fierce hug.

"I'll always be here for you," he promised, and I knew that he meant it. "I'm never going to leave you, Ed. You can always count on me."

"I know," I choked out as I clung to him for dear life. "I trust you, Russel."

All I had to do was trust myself not to screw this up.


	15. Chapter 15

I woke up when then sun hit my face. I groggily took stock—sprawled out on the bed with a headache and a horrible taste in my mouth—and rolled onto my side in an effort to escape the brightness and get some more sleep.

And froze.

Russel was lying on the other side of the bed. He was on his back with one arm folded over his stomach and the other was hooked under his pillow. There was a contented quirk to the corner of his mouth, his whole body looked relaxed, his bangs feathering out over his cheeks in a way that made him look like one of those few good Humanist paintings.

I realized where my thoughts were going and pressed my face into the pillow, hoping that would smother them. In spite of myself I wondered what it would be like to wake up next to him every morning. The first thing I'd see every day would be that light hair falling across his face, his bright blue eyes blinking open sleepily and then he'd smile at me and probably flick at my cowlick antenna before getting up to make coffee. I could see it all so vividly, all the way up to hugging him from behind and kissing his neck before grabbing my mug.

It made it all hurt so much more. Seeing something so domestic in my head and _knowing_ that I was never going to have that with him.

There was a soft pressure at my temple and I flinched with my whole body. Nothing else happened and I turned my head enough to see that Russel was awake, the arm he had under his head laid across the bed and reaching for me. He didn't say anything. He just looked at me with those blue eyes so full of worry and started stroking my hair. I closed my eyes and kept my mouth shut, sure that if I spoke it would come out a croak. I tried not to focus on his touch and failed miserably.

I guess he noticed my tension because his hand slid from my forehead to my shoulder and I felt the bed shift as he moved towards me. I dared crack open an eye and couldn't help the laugh that escaped my lips; if someone came to me before I stormed the manor and told me that someday I'd let the imposter see me this vulnerable then I probably would've punched them.

I kept chuckling and I couldn't seem to stop. I wasn't hysterical at least. _Yet_.

Russel finally spoke, a simple "hey" colored with a complex mix of emotion. Worry was the main one, but there was enough caring affection there to make my heart clench. My body curled up almost on instinct. _Protect the vital areas_ even though it's wasn't the physical I was worried about. Well, besides the tingling flesh near my auto-mail ports...

"Edward?" he asked with hesitation.

"You must be really worried if you're using my full name," I replied with cynical humor before falling back into the constant, quiet laughter. I really couldn't stop, and even though it still hadn't spiraled completely out of control I was wondering if I was going to be getting up from this one. Me, in love with Russel. The imposter. My closest friend. The only other person besides Al who I _couldn't_ live without.

His weight shifted again and then he was giving me a sort of reclining half-hug. As much as I needed him to be away from me... the need to keep him close was stronger. I clung to him and the desperate laughter finally faded away. When he pulled away I let go reluctantly, and then he was pressing our foreheads together and his hand was cupping my cheek. It was almost too easy to pretend we were together the way I wanted us to be.

"Ed, I'm going to go make us some breakfast," he said as he absently rubbed my cheekbone with his thumb. I wondered how I could've missed how damn physically affectionate he is. Mostly how I've never really minded the closeness when anyone else's touch will make me flinch. Too close to the problem, couldn't see it in the right focus...

"You still with me Ed?"

I nodded and swallowed around the lump in my throat. "Yeah, I'm here." I smiled at him even though I knew he'd see right through it.

He gave me another quick hug and then climbed out of the bed to pad off for the kitchen. I stared at the wall until I heard pots being moved around and then I rolled onto my back and rubbed at the skin near my shoulder port. The joints and junctions still ached but not as dangerously as before.

_Another breakdown without permanent damage,_ I though as my gaze wandered across the ceiling, _I guess fate has to give me some good luck [b]__**somewhere[/b]**__..._

I hadn't gotten much sleep between the distress and the auto-mail issues, so it wasn't a minute before I was drifting back into unconsciousness. I floated in a gray void for what seemed like forever, and then color started to bleed into the mist. Blue came first. Bright, loving blue eyes. Light yellow strands being brushed away Pink lips smiling...

Blue. Sharp corners outlined in white. Warm water that felt freezing. Blue eyes that were cold and cruel and staring me down the whole time because he said I had to look at him.

Russel's eyes and Archer's eyes blurred together in my mind and then I was bolting upright and lurching out of bed. I barely made it to the toilet before I started violently throwing up. On the inside I was screaming obscenities at whatever part of my subconscious decided to fuck with me like that. The tiles were still swimming in front of my watering eyes as I dry heaved.

Russel was suddenly dropping to his knees beside me, patting my back with a hand still stuck in an oven mitt. "God, Ed, I'm so sorry," he was saying with the same sort of desperation that was in my earlier laughter. "This is all my fault. I'm sorry."

I managed to force down the gags for the moment. "Don't you dare start thinking that," I got out before the taste got to me.

"Ed, I kissed you and it sent you into a meltdown!" he all but yelled. "How exactly am I not supposed to think that?"

"I was screwed up before you ever met me," I shouted back, "and I'll be screwed up no matter what anyone does! This has always been right below the surface; I'm just really good at fooling everyone and myself into thinking I'm alright even though I've been drowning pretty ever since I destroyed Al's life trying to bring Mom back!"

If there was ever a deafening silence then that was it. I looked away and bit my lip as I tried to stop the tears that started streaming down my face without my realizing it. Russel was the first to speak again.

"Ed..." he said slowly, obviously choosing his words carefully, "you're stronger than this. I know you probably don't feel that way right now, after all that's happened to you, but you _are_." He hugged me, his chest warm against my back. "You've got to find some way to keep this from dragging you down. I'll help you, whatever it is, but I can't stand to see you like this."

"I'm not going to get any better," I mumbled.

"_Yes_ you _are_," he said with such conviction I could almost believe it. "You're going to get past this. It'll take time, but you'll do it. And you won't have to do it alone."

I couldn't take the pain in his voice. I nodded.

He got to his feet and pulled me up with him. "Why don't you brush your teeth to get that taste out of your mouth and then we'll talk, or whatever you want." His tone grew a bit firmer. "But we're not going to bury this and pretend it didn't happen. That's obviously not working."

I nodded again, and hugged him, and wondered if it really was possible for me to get over any of this. I was going to try, regardless, because I knew he cared too much to let this go. Maybe I deserved self-destruction but if Russel thought I was something worth fighting for... who was I to argue?


	16. Chapter 16

Two weeks later I got a call from Russel. It started out as the usual venting about his supervisor, but ended unexpectedly when he asked me if the Foundation was looking for any new alchemists.

I actually held the phone away from my ear for a second so I could give the receiver a funny look. Almost two years previous Russel told me that he didn't like staying in Central for longer than a couple days; too many memories of his brokenhearted mother shuffling out her last years in a daze. It's not like there weren't plenty of other labs and research organizations he could apply to, and he wouldn't have that much trouble getting in to the good ones.

It was beyond egotistical, but I couldn't help but feel that I was a big part of his decision. Specifically, the fact that I was still a wreck. Then I started finding logical justification for it. The more I thought about it the more I worried, until an hour later I was calling him back.

"Wow, did you get an answer already?"

I bit my lip. "Look, Russel..."

"Oh." I could hear the genuine disappointment in his voice. "Well, I guess there's the Helman Agricultural over in-"

"Russel, I haven't asked yet."

In my mind I could see him perk up and brighten. I tried to shake the image out of my head before I started lingering over his smile and the particular way his eyes glowed when he was happy. It didn't work that well.

Russel brought me out of my involuntary mental wanderings with, "Wait, why are you calling then?"

"I..." I suddenly remembered how stupid and self-centered it was going to sound, but in a burst of the same rashness that carried me through my teenage years I got it over with in a rush. "Look, Russel, I'm just worried that you're coming back to a city you don't really like and that I might be the reason why."

There was a long, long pause. I was just about to stammer out an excuse when he spoke again.

"Ed... the thing is, well, Central used to bring up more bad memories than good. i_Used to/i_. Being friends with you outweighs the stuff with my mom."

"But-"

"Shut i_up_/i, Elric." His voice was taking on that scolding tone that I usually got pissed off about, but this time it felt deserved. "It's not like you're the only reason I'm thinking about moving to Central. I know that the lab you work in won't put some idiot accountant in charge of my research. Not to mention that it's i_the_/i most prestigious lab in the country. I'll actually be around other alchemists for a change, and it won't take a month to get hold of a piece of research or a book or-"

"Okay, okay, I get the point," I interrupted, feeling more than a little embarrassed. I kicked myself and wished that I'd listened to the voice that said the thought was beyond egotistical because it was right. I switched the phone to my right hand so I could rub my forehead with my left and tried to backpedal out of the new mess I'd made. "Sorry, Russel, my mind got on the point and I couldn't stop thinking about it."

"Ed..."

That touch of panic was creeping in and I did not need that. I laughed and hoped I didn't sound nervous even though I knew it did. "I've still a long way to go, huh? Still have a little too much of that dumb teenage attitude left in me-"

"i_Ed_/i."

I swallowed and tried to smother the urge to keep talking about anything just to fill the silence. I didn't have to see him to know he was leaning back in his chair with the tip of his tongue held lightly between his teeth. He always did that when he was choosing his words carefully. The fact that he thought I was fragile enough to warrant such care was almost as bad as the fact that it was true.

i_Maybe Al was right_/i_,_ I thought. i_Maybe I should have gone to a doctor who's sworn to secrecy and just told the whole story. Maybe holding it all in for so long just made everything all infected. I let it fester for too long and telling Russel about it years later was just too late._/i

I couldn't stand the dead air anymore.

"Rus," and oh, my voice was desperate and I didn't care, "I know you're trying to watch what you say, but don't. Just... just talk to me. The quiet's worse than-"

"I like that teenage attitude."

That was unexpected. I sat there with my mouth hanging open while he pressed on.

"Granted, having it turned on me full blast while you were swinging your blade at my head was a little much, but I still like that... that spark. Fire. Some other cliché like that. I liked to think... I thought that maybe I was helping bring it back out. Helping you be who you're meant to be instead of this gray ghost you've turned into."

"Look, Russel, I just grew up. Who I am changed with the times. It's i_life_/i."

"God, Ed," I could almost feel his arms wrapping around me, "just because you had to grow up doesn't mean you have to throw away every trace of yourself. Someone like you should never i_want_/i to be just another stiff suit. You're forced to behave in public, but so what? You're allowed to resent it."

"Rus..."

"You keep trying to turn yourself into an empty shell! I know what kind of energy you have. You're a fighter and no restraining order is going to ever change that without i_your_/i consent. Just because you have to play nice with the government for your brother's sake doesn't mean you have to give up on living."

I didn't know if I still had the courage to be who I used to be. I never even realized I'd fallen that far.

"Edward," he said quietly, "you're not the only reason why I want to come to Central, but being able to see you more than once every two months... it's a really i_big_/i reason. I miss you. I miss you a lot."

I fumbled for something to say to that. Something that conveyed what he meant to me. Something that would let him know how grateful I was that he was with me, how proud I was to be his friend. I think I fell a little short but I got as close as I could.

"I... I miss you too."

"So you'll talk to your supervisor?"

"Yeah."

"And you'll stop beating yourself up so damn much?"

I smiled and answered honestly, "No promises."

"See, this is why I have to move to Central. Someone's got to be there to smack you in the back of the head when you start acting like an idiot."

"Goodi_bye_/i, Russel."

"Bye, Ed. I'll be seeing you soon."


	17. Chapter 17

"Thanks, ma'am!" I said as Russel and I gathered our coats. We were standing in my—our—supervisor's foyer. She insisted that I bring him over as soon as he got off the train. Probably so she could do that thing where she very visibly sizes someone up and make them nervous; since he interviewed over the phone they hadn't yet met face to face. Luckily she had experience with the idiot manager Russel had to deal with so she didn't give any weight to the bad performance reviews, plus she sped up the process so he could get started several weeks sooner than he expected.

Of course, that meant that he hadn't had the chance to look for an apartment and was stuck on my worn out couch. I would have offered him a spot on the slightly less lumpy mattress but I didn't trust myself not to moan something in my sleep. Luckily my hormones and emotions stayed mostly in check even though Russel was so close. I was still having problems wrapping my mind around the fact that he was there in Central permanently.

We waved goodbye to our supervisor from the street and then started walking back to the lab; since she lived close and it was a nice day we decided not to take the car. Once we turned the corner at the end of the block Russel let out a heavy sigh and finally showed how wound up he was over meeting the boss at her house.

I laughed. "Stressing out?"

He glared at me murderously. "How can you be so _calm_?"

"I told you that she's a good boss. She cares about our work and things that might affect our work. Period. End of story."

"We were still in _our boss's house_."

"She also knows your last supervisor was a prick."

"Good thing to because with all the venom he was pouring out I'd've never gotten a job anywhere else!"

I tried not to snicker as Russel sheepishly waved to a woman standing by her mailbox; he'd just scared her half to death by yelling that last part. Once we were out of sight he finally let go of the tension.

Since we didn't have anywhere else to be we decided to wander a while before heading back to the lab. The houses in that section of the city were good scenery; they were nice enough to speak of the upper-middle class living in them but decorated simply so they didn't come off as snobbish. Many people were enjoying the warm spring weather in their front lawns, chatting with neighbors, tending gardens, playing with their children.

One brown haired mother called her kids inside for lemonade as Rus and I passed their house. What used to be bone crushing regret had faded down to a dull throbbing ache in my heart, right shoulder, and left thigh. Distance helped, both in kilometers and time, but I really only started healing when Russel got a hold of me and I never realized how much until that moment.

I slung my good arm across his shoulders in a brief hug. He looked surprised for a second—I almost never initiated physical contact—before he smiled and hugged me back. He always knew when to talk and when to stay quiet. Even my brother wasn't that good at reading me anymore, but I guess that's what was supposed to happen. We grew up, and even though we were still close we went off to live our own separate lives. If we stayed as inseparable as we were when Al was still tied to a suit of armor... it might not have been healthy. And I was okay with how we ended up.

Russel nudged me and broke me out of my thoughts. He was pointing to a two story house down the block with green siding, a black roof, and a sign reading 'Open House' attached to the fence.

"Why not?" I shrugged. "Maybe we'll find your dream house today."

He laughed, not putting much weight to the thought. The area was designed to appeal to white collar workers decently high up on the ladder, highly desirable since it was close enough to the offices to be convenient but far enough to be the suburbs. As an alchemist new to the city Russel wouldn't make enough to rent one alone.

The realtor was the only one there and she greeted us with the usual fake cheerfulness of her profession. After the initial sales pitch she offered us some cookies and the opportunity to explore without her hovering around. We were halfway up the stairs when we heard her sunny greeting for whoever just walked in.

"Worse than a car salesman," I muttered.

Russel just laughed. "_No one_ is worse than a car salesman."

The place was nice without being over the top. Good wood floors that had been taken care of, lots of deep green and warm browns in the wallpaper, the scuffs on the baseboards lending a lived in charm to the place. Russel _really_ liked it. I could practically hear him crunching the numbers as he ran his hand across a windowsill. I was doing the math too and the equation didn't favor him getting this house.

"Hey Ed..." Russel said, still looking out the window.

"Yeah?"

"I think I'm going to rent this place."

I blinked, ran through the numbers, and blinked again. _Is he using the same equation I am?_ I thought as I checked my math again. _Is he missing some expense because he's not used to the cash flows in Central?_

"It's a nice neighborhood," Rus continued thoughtfully, "and it's a nice house. It's a forty minute walk from work, give or take. Thirty to our favorite restaurant."

"Russel, you know you can't afford it," I said, the reluctant voice of reality. He sounded like he already had his heart set on the place.

"Well..." he finally turned and looked at me hopefully, "I thought that maybe you might be able to help me with that?"

It took me a second to process that.

"You know," he continued, "move into this place with me. Be roommates. Together the rent will be no problem..."

He kept going and everything he said was solid. The house was a good size for the two of us. It had a small library next to the bedrooms. Good neighborhood. We wouldn't even be the only alchemists if the mailbox design across the street was any indication. It was far enough from our boss's house that it wouldn't come off as brown-nosing. There was absolutely no reason for the two of us to pass this place up.

_Except that I'll be sleeping in the next room and I have no idea how soundproof these walls are. I'll have to see him every morning with his hair all messed up and that sleepy grin he always has. Watch him come out of the shower with just his boxers on._

I wanted to be his roommate. I wanted to be close to him because he's my best friend. But there was that part of me that wanted to be closer than friends and I was sure my stupid crush would screw everything up.

"Ed..." he said softly, stepping close enough to lay a hand on my shoulder. "Please."

_If he ever figures out how much control he has over me when he looks at me like __**that**__ then I'm a dead man. Puppy eyes have nothing on him._

Once I managed to nod he swept me up in a hug before bolting downstairs to close the deal before someone else did. I was left standing there in a daze as I tried to process what just happened. The part of me screaming that I just signed my own death certificate almost sounded far away. I wondered if I'd gone into actual physical shock.

When I regained control of my muscles I wandered into the hallway and found myself staring at the cream and maroon tiled bathroom.

_Maybe I can do this._


	18. Chapter 18

The next couple weeks flew by in a blur. We managed to close the deal on the house quickly and without any headaches, and apparently someone decided that it couldn't be that easy and so the shipping company lost _all_ of Russel's stuff. While he was out making heads roll it was my job to set up utilities and to get my things packed up and moved across town.

I never put any effort into making my shack into a home. The furniture amounted to the bed, couch, desk, and a single chair. I used to have a couple of barstools but after they broke I didn't really feel the need to replace them so I just ate my meals leaning against the counter. Other than that there was just the rug in the bathroom, the coat rack, and my books and notes.

It was kind of a slap to the face to realize how pathetic and empty my life had become. Granted, there's only so much I could have done with the run down little house, but I could have done more than nothing. A rug in the kitchen or curtains or _something_. Suddenly the suppressed sadness I always saw in Al's eyes when he visited made a lot more sense.

I resolved to make an effort in the new house. Central University was having a student art sale soon; Russel and I could go and pick some things out together...

I had a lot of time to think about the 'I'm in love with him' part of moving in together while trying to sort out the mess of my study. The fear I felt when he first suggested it, the terror of my feelings being discovered, it slowly faded. Sure, the fact that shirts weren't required at the breakfast table would cause some irritating blushing, but the novelty would soon wear off. Once I got control of the panic reflex I started feeling really good about the whole thing. My best friend and I were going to be roommates. I wouldn't have to wait until our time zones lined up to call him or stare at the calendar and the next random weekend visit.

And then my rationalization was interrupted by my bed disintegrating when I tried to dismantle it.

After that things got too hectic to think about anything aside from strangling people, and my new roommate quickly jumped to the top of the to strangle list. Russel never did track down his missing things, and, while the company would reimburse him, they were going to argue about the amount for a couple months first. He had savings but it wasn't enough to replace even the necessities, and when I offered my help he wouldn't accept it even on a loan basis. It wasn't even as though he was going to be putting me out by much; since I never spent any money on myself my bank account was healthy and then some. For the first days I reasoned, then I argued, and finally we got to the point of screaming at each other.

After one too many yelling matches I got fed up and physically hauled him to a furniture store. I told him we weren't leaving until we both had somewhere to sleep, and while he was already fuming he didn't want to start something when a salesperson was already greeting us. When we left I had the receipt for two beds and a four chair dining room set in my hand, so technically it was a victory. Given that we spent the car ride back home in tense silence that erupted into a knock down drag out fight the second the front door closed I wasn't really sure what it really counted as.

I guess that at some point I should have been worried. I mean, our first week of actually living in the same house was mostly spent screaming at each other. I guess I never stopped for longer than it took to catch my breath so I didn't have time to think about it. Then, right around the time things had marginally slowed down and I had the chance to feel the unease, Russel's old boss decided to be remarkably petty about the whole move. While our mutual supervisor knew the guy was a jerk not everyone in the lab hierarchy did, and any problems Russel and I had with each other were set aside to tackle this new issue before it destroyed his career.

Luckily I made friends as well as enemies in my time as a State's Alchemist. This time when I offered help Russel knew better than to refuse. I made a few calls and that somehow led to being given a noogie by Colonel Havoc. That's right, _Colonel_ Havoc. The shock of seeing those stars on his shoulders was more surprising than the headlock.

After I returned from Germany there were tons of hearings and none of the guys from Roy's old squad were allowed to talk to me at all, and by the time the restriction was lifted I was so sick of the military that I really didn't feel the urge to cross that bridge. But Havoc and the others were the kind of buttcapes that gave me hope for the rest of them, and standing with him while he openly called me 'boss' even though I was a civilian made me remember that.

Havoc knocked out a lot of the crap the jerk was dishing out about Russel. Some shrapnel still hit but the damage was contained to people regarding him suspiciously versus losing his funding.

Standing together on that issue somehow erased the two straight weeks of arguing. I think it was actually good, in a way, that we spent so much time pissed off at each other. It distracted me from the whole 'I'm in love with him and he's not wearing a shirt' thing. By the time we were back to talking to each other I was over it.

But then living with him brought to light some issues of mine that I didn't expect. Actually I didn't even know about the issue at all until one night when Russel shook me awake.

"Wha..." I mumbled, catching sight of the clock. "Russel, it's the middle of the..."

He reached for my bedside lamp and turned it on. 'Worried' didn't even begin to describe the look on his face.

"Rus, what happened?" I started to fear the worst. "Are our brothers in trouble? Is there something wrong with the lab?"

"Ed..." He was looking at me like he didn't know how to say what he was thinking. I started to realize that he was worried about me. Worried to the point of waking me up to make sure I was okay.

"Are you okay?" I reached out and touched his arm. "Did you have a nightmare or-"

Suddenly he was holding his face in his hands, his eyes searching mine. "Ed, you're the one who had the nightmare."

He was so close. I could taste his breath, smell his subtle aftershave. His hands on my cheeks felt so hot. I barely even heard what he said.

"Edward, look at me. You were... you were screaming, Ed."

When the words finally penetrated it was like being shot. The dream rushed back to memory, a mishmash of all the terrible things I'd seen or done. I saw the thing I created that night, my mother's rotted corpse lying in the grave I violated, The Gate watching me, _always_ watching...

At some point I clung to Russel like he was the only stable thing left in the world. At some point he climbed into the bed and held me close. At some point I started sobbing and I didn't stop for a long time.

When I woke up it was just past dawn. Russel was on his back and I was laying on him, his chest my pillow. One of his hands was on my back and the other was tangled in my hair. I felt him breathe, listened to his heart beat against my ear, watched his eyelids flutter ever so slightly as the rays of sun drifted over his face.

Then I saw the rusty smudge on shoulder. I reached out with my good hand and touched the cut and bruise that my auto-mail made when I grabbed him.

"Hey," Russel mumbled, slowly coming around. "How're you doing?"

I rolled off him and tried to get a better look at the injury.

"Ed?"

"I hurt you," I said, looking at the thin lines of clotted blood. The edges of the auto-mail plates were dulled down; it took a lot of pressure to cut someone like this. "I didn't even realize..."

He took both my hands in his. "Ed, it's going to take a lot more than a couple papercuts to hurt me."

"But I-"

"_Edward Elric_, shut up and look at me." He brushed my hair out of my face and despite everything I couldn't help but savor the tender touch. "What happened?"

"I... I didn't know." I rubbed my tear swollen eyes. "There've been mornings that I felt terrible but I didn't know it was due to this."

"How long do you think you've been having these nightmares?"

"Nightmares? Ever since that night I..." I looked away, "...touched the gate. But like this? Not long, I don't think. Roy would have told me and he spent the night often enough to know."

Russel scowled at the mention of my ex. "So this started after he left you."

I sighed. "Look, Rus, I'm not exactly thrilled with him either, but he just gave me the final nudge that sent me over the edge. I was already on the edge to begin with and if he didn't send me into a breakdown then someone else would have."

"You don't know that."

Not even my brother was as optimistic about my mental state as Russel was. No matter how much evidence Rus had to the contrary he always believed that I was just going through a rough patch. He always believed in my sanity. Even after waking me up because I was screaming in the middle of the night, even after staying with me until dawn because I was sobbing, he still didn't think that I was completely screwed up.

"You're one of a kind, Russel," I mumbled as I got out of bed. "Stay here, I'll get the first aid kit and we'll get those cuts cleaned up."

"It's not-"

"Shallow cuts can still get infected." There was no rebuttal. "I'm sorry for doing that."

A pillow hit my back. "Ed, stop apologizing."

I laughed. "You are one of a kind."

"Good thing," I didn't have to see him to know he was grinning. "I don't think the world could handle two of either of us."

"The world already handled two of me, _imposter_."

"And look at how many things blew up in the process."

"Point."

I was dumb enough to think that it would all work out fine. I should have known better than to hope.


	19. Chapter 19

After we got the initial screaming over with the whole 'having a roommate' thing went smoothly. Well, relatively speaking. We still bickered constantly and those fights would sometimes devolve into yelling matches, but there's no way that two stubborn men like us would be able to live in conventional peace.

Besides, I think we both needed the fights. After the freedom of our teenage years it was hard being chained to one office, one building, one city... even though we loved our jobs and neither of us wanted to go back to sleeping under trees, the confinement itched at us. Acting like we did when we first met and arguing over nothing was a way to scratch that itch, I guess.

Whatever the deep psychological reasons behind our actions, it worked.

As for that uncomfortable factor of being in love with him... I don't think it really got better, but I got over that whole being a blushing idiot stage. After a couple months it didn't even wrench at me when I woke up the morning after a bad nightmare and he was still lying next to me. Well, okay, maybe it did, but it was just a tiny pang of longing instead of the stab I felt first time I opened my eyes and he was all sprawled out and the sun was making his hair almost glow... that first morning it was almost impossible to suppress the urge to kiss him. However, after a few weeks there was only an echo of that particular desire.

It was like when my auto-mail. The sharp stabs and tingles and all the other adjustment pains went away within a few months, and over the years even that strange dull ache faded into the background. The initial symptoms of loving Russel had already gone, all that blushing and awkwardness, and all that was left was that ache. I kept telling myself that it would all fade away eventually.

The thing is that I wasn't really sure if I wanted it to go away.

Life didn't stop because I was confused. It kept going and for the first time in a long time I was actually living it. I'd have lunch with Havoc at least once a week, started up correspondence with Fuery, I'd even drop by Scieszka's bookstore some Saturdays. I still didn't feel entirely comfortable with seeing my coworkers socially, but I became a less distant acquaintance.

I felt less depressed. The nightmares were less frequent. I was getting better.

It was one of those rare weekends when I didn't have a project to obsess over and neither did Russel. We decided to just wander the shopping district all day. We ended up at an abstractionist art stall by a fountain. We started discussing the arrays we were seeing in the paintings, then got lectured for trying to impose our narrow views on the freedom of the form, and then another artist apologized on behalf of her friend. She was curious about the formulas we were seeing and we discovered that a lot of mathematics went into her layouts. Russel pulled out the journals we picked up earlier and the three of us ended up discussing the geometry of it all for almost two hours.

By the time we finished both Rus and I had fallen in love with this one painting of hers. She employed both the Golden Ratio and a fractal pattern that I had seen attempted in some of the more experimental mineral purification arrays. It was interesting and the scheme didn't attack you like some of the others. Not that there's anything wrong with lots of bright colors; it's just that there was enough conflict in our house without the artwork helping.

While Russel was counting out the cash I gave her directions to a bookstore that sold used alchemy textbooks for cheap. It wasn't until she batted her eyelashes and asked if we were going to come back that I realized she was flirting with me. Once I figured that out I had no idea what to do with the information. I'm sure I got very awkward after but luckily the transaction was closed quickly and she moved to attend to another customer.

"It's too bad," Russel said as he hefted up the paper wrapped frame.

"What is?"

He jerked his head towards the stall. "That artist. The two of you would make a cute couple. It's too bad she's not your type."

My 'type' being male. I shrugged. "No use guessing about it."

He might have looked a little sad. Russel was a true friend, always more concerned with my well being than he was with his own, and he probably thought that romance would do me some good. And if I was attracted to women it would make setting me up a lot easier.

I felt a little guilty over not telling him exactly why I was terrified of intimacy, but my feelings for him were tangled enough as it is. I figured I should wait until I wasn't in love with him to let that one slip.

Russel went back to the car to safely stow the large canvas. He insisted that he didn't need any help and that I should find a table at a nearby café and order drinks. I'd heard good things about one of the little restaurants on the square so I settled down at a table set apart from the others. Two coffees were soon sitting in front of me. I sipped mine and let myself get lost in the sound of the fountain, the quiet call of the birds, and the background noise of many voices conversing. It was peaceful.

"... Edward?"

I just about dropped my cup. I did inhale half a mouthful of coffee. After some undignified coughing I finally managed to look up. I still couldn't believe it.

"R-Roy?"

He was standing there looking like he didn't know what to do with himself. He moved as though he was going to sit down at my table but he drew back almost immediately.

"I, uh," he started, uncharacteristically uncertain, "I was just walking through and I saw you here."

"Right," I replied less than intelligently. The awkward was so thick you could spread it on a sandwich. "Do you want to sit down?"

"I... yes." He settled in nervously and looked around, obviously desperate for something—anything—to say. He noticed the second cup on the table and gestured to it. "Are you meeting someone?"

"Rus and I are having lunch." I realized that 'Rus' wasn't all that descriptive. "Russel Tringham? He works primarily in agricultural arrays."

"... Your imposter from Xenotime?"

I couldn't help but chuckle at the confused look on Roy's face. While the brothers Elric and Tringham parted on decently good terms I was still holding a bit of a grudge over the height difference when I wrote my report.

"Yeah," I confirmed, still smiling. "My imposter. We work in the same wing at the lab and we're actually housemates."

"So you were able to make a good friend, then?"

I finally realized what that tone meant. Hope. Hope that he hadn't completely screwed me up by leaving and the intense guilt over doing so. I finally noticed how tired he looked. How he looked like he was coming apart at the seams.

"Roy... are you doing all right?"

He started to lie but then trailed off into an exhausted sigh. That was answer enough.

"What's wrong?"

"It's just..." he ran his hand through his hair as he tried to collect his thoughts. " I just... you're amazing, you know that?"

I didn't know what to say to that.

"What I went through... it doesn't even come _close_ to what happened to you. And here you are doing all right, even after I helped hurt you. And I still can't drag myself back up."

"Roy, stop." I reached across the table and gave his hand a squeeze. "I didn't get here on my own, okay? I had help and I still have a long way to go."

He stared at my hand, still covering his. "Help? You mean Tringham?"

"Russel's been amazing. I tried doing this on my own and I failed miserably. And then by chance we worked together on a project and then we somehow became best friends."

"Ed..." He laid his other hand on top of mine and leaned a little closer. "Not a day goes by that I don't regret leaving things as I did. Would... do you think you could give me a chance to do things right?" His voice dropped to a whisper, aware of the crowd around us. "A real relationship?"

I have to admit that my heart might have skipped a little. Even though I was so in love with Russel... Roy was my first. The first person I _chose_, however messed up the reasons were. At that point he was the only person to make me feel good like that. I blushed when I remembered how good.

Then I remembered how much it hurt when he left. I was torn between that one wonderful morning when we acted like a real couple and the abandonment that came afterwards. I didn't know which instinct to follow.

"I..." I said, at a loss. But I guess that was all Roy needed to hear.

"Can't blame you," he murmured, looking away. "You'd be crazy to give me another chance." He glanced back at our joined hands and suddenly looked disgusted with himself. He pulled away and stood up. "I shouldn't have asked."

"Roy! Wait."

He stopped. I hastily pulled out a pen and scribbled on a napkin.

"Look... we probably shouldn't try the same thing again. But that doesn't mean we can't be friends." I offered the napkin. "This is the house number. Just call around nine at night because I'm a complete workaholic."

"Edw-"

"Trust me, Roy, you can't crawl out of this pit alone."

He slowly reached out and took the number. Then he held out his hand as if to shake mine, probably more out of military officer bred habit than anything.

Just as he was pulling his arm back I reached up and slapped my palm against his. It was the same thing I did when we said goodbye a lifetime ago. It took him a moment to remember, but once he did he smiled. A bittersweet smile but a _real_ smile. He pocketed the napkin, waved goodbye, and disappeared into the crowd.


	20. Chapter 20

I honestly have no idea what I was thinking at that moment. Everything, maybe. Whatever it was it was confusing and it was giving me a headache. Plus I was starting to get a little irritated at that fluttering feeling in my stomach. Roy still had an effect on me, years after we parted ways, and I didn't really like it. It chafed at something in me, the fact that Roy had that kind of control over me.

I was pulled from my thoughts by an approaching thunderstorm of someone's energy.

"What was _he_ doing here?"

I looked up and saw Russel standing there with clenched fists and a deep frown. His energy positively crackled with anger. I knew that Russel disliked Roy on my behalf, but I had no idea that he hated him _that_ much.

I started imagining what would happen when I told him that I gave Roy our number. The scenario didn't exactly end well.

"Russel," I said, trying desperately to diffuse the situation, "he just happened to pass by-"

"Just _happened_ to find you in this huge city?"

I glared. "Russel, stop it."

"_What?_"

"_Stop it_. He probably saw the same flyer we did. Half the city is here to see the artist fair."

"Yeah, I guess..." he mumbled as he flopped down into his chair. I got the feeling that he still wasn't entirely convinced. I was starting to feel less that hopeful about how this day would end.

"Look," I explained, trying to salvage something, "he saw me and he came over. We talked for a couple minutes and then he went on his way. That's it."

Something flashed in Russel's eyes when he leaned forward and asked, "How can you be so forgiving after he-"

Panic grabbed me by the throat and I grabbed him by the arm. "Not. Here."

He didn't say anything. There was this look on his face that I couldn't place for a second. Then I realized that it was pain. I was gripping him with my right hand and I was squeezing far too hard. I let go and started to apologize but Russel cut me off.

"Fine," he grumbled as he crossed his arms and tried to discretely rub at the new bruise, "we'll talk about it at home."

_Oh, that's something I sure look forward to_, I thought miserably. _We were having such a good time too..._

"We're still going to enjoy ourselves while we're out here, right?" I immediately regretted asking, not for the question but for the pleading tone of denial coloring my voice.

"... Right," he agreed at last.

That didn't work out too well. Russel was still sulky and that in turn pissed me off to no end. I started resenting how he seemed to think I was so fragile that I needed such overprotection. How he acted like I couldn't handle myself. It all built up until the dislike in Russel's energy spiked when we came to an artist who painted horses.

I didn't even bother saying anything. I just turned around and started for the car. A couple minutes later he came jogging up beside me.

"Where are you going?"

I still had the presence of mind not to get into it while we were still in public. I kept walking and muttered, "To the car," through gritted teeth.

"Is something wrong?'

Usually the concern in his voice would have touched me, but as it was it just tossed kerosene on the fire. Something snapped. I stopped dead and whirled on him.

"I am _sick_ of your childish sulking."

"What-"

"I have put up with your irrational dislike of Roy for-"

"_Irrational?_" Oh, and then his anger was back and then some.

"Yes, Russel, _irrational_. A little dislike is rational. This much isn't. You're practically vibrating with rage!"

"Maybe I'm just feeling the anger for both of us since you don't seem to care what he did to-"

"Stop!" I suddenly remembered where we were. "Just get in the car."

"Ed..."

"Get. In. The. Car."

We drove home in stony silence as the tension grew and grew. Both of us managed to keep it buried until I slammed the front door behind me.

Russel advanced on me. "Okay, Edward, are we allowed to talk _now?_"

The patronizing tone of voice and the way he used my full first name grated at me. Keeping a handle on my emotions was becoming difficult.

"_Excuse_ me for wanting to keep this private. Even if my relationship with Roy wasn't taboo I wouldn't want everyone in the café knowing about it!"

Russel's anger faltered. "I.... okay. I'm sorry, you're right about that. But that still doesn't change the problem here."

"Oh? And what _is_ the problem here?"

The fire in his eyes raged back. "I shouldn't have to explain it! Dammit, Ed, I've been helping you pick up the pieces for almost three years now!"

I felt like banging my head against the wall. Actually I felt like banging _his_ head against the wall.

"You're giving Roy way too much credit. I was screwed up before I met him, I was screwed up before we started... whatever you even call it. Him leaving me might have been the final straw that lead to my breakdown but it's still nothing compared to the rest of my damage."

"And that justifies him abandoning you?"

Yelling at Russel always brought out that teenage immaturity in me, and this time teenage insecurity came along for the ride.

"You can stop making it sound like I'm some weak damsel in distress who fell apart because her boyfriend left her, okay?"

"I didn't-"

I could see that he genuinely didn't mean to imply that, but I was past the point of caring.

"Yes, you _did,_ Russel. Ever since I told you about Roy you've acted like you have to protect me from him. You act like I'm still in the worst of it. I have gotten over him, you know."

He was starting to look less angry and more exasperated. "Ed, I saw the two of you talking. I saw him take your hand. And I saw the way you were looking at him when he did it."

He stepped forward and I stepped back, and all of a sudden I was against the wall and he was standing far, far too close. The worst part is that he was right; I still had butterflies in my stomach from being so close to Roy. Then those butterflies got into a fight with the ones caused by being able to taste Russel's breath and I started to feel physically ill.

"Look," I tried to rationalize, "It's just that he was my first, okay? Even though it was all messed up he was still my first. Don't you feel something, every once in a while, when you think about your first girlfriend?"

"I guess?"

He was still standing so close and it was getting really distracting. I slipped to the side to escape his breath on my face and then sank down on the couch. After a minute he joined me, thankfully sitting on the other side. I don't think I could have survived any physical contact from him right then.

"Ed..." he started, obviously trying very hard to choose the right words, "I just don't see how you can forgive him. I mean... it looked like you were going to kiss him. I might remember the times with Heather fondly every once in a while but I would never think of kissing her after she dumped me for another guy."

I couldn't help but laugh. "You have the _worst_ taste in women."

He chuckled half heartedly. I sobered.

"Russel... it's different."

"Why? Seems cut and dry to me."

I was too drained to get angry at his tone. I barely managed irritated.

"That's because you're an idiot and you're letting it get in the way of logic."

"What's that supposed to mean."

"It means that I easily take first in the 'who's the most messed up' contest, but Roy's definitely in the top five. It's not as though he was the stable rock in our relationship. He was slipping as much as I was, and now the guilt over leaving me is making it ten times worse."

"Guilt?" He sounded disbelieving. "What guilt?"

"You didn't see him up close. He looked terrible, and he was disproportionately relieved that I was friends with you. He's as messed up as I was when the two of us got back in touch. Maybe even more. Look, I know him and I know he ran because he was scared at the idea of real intimacy with me. With anyone. And I can understand that."

Russel took a minute for that to soak in. At last he seemed to grudgingly accept the concept.

"I guess..." he mumbled, "I just don't understand why he would leave you."

"Have you not been listening?"

"No, I mean I have, it's just.... why would he let you go? What would scare him so much that he would throw away the best thing that ever happened to him?"

I thought he was joking. I almost laughed. But then he looked at me and it was very clear that he wasn't. He really thought that I was the best thing to ever happen to Roy. He really thought I was worth holding on to.

I felt my face get hot at this realization. My heart ached at the thought of being the best thing to ever happen to _Russel_.

I fought to beat down those dangerous feelings and to answer his question.

"The thing is..." I wondered if I should bother putting it delicately or just come out with it. "You're... kind of missing something big here."

"What?"

".... Fifteen years."

I laughed at the absurdity of it all. That the mostly likely driving force behind Roy leaving was something as relatively insignificant as time.

I went on. "He met me when I was eleven, you know. He... he watched me grow up. And even though he _never_ did anything when he was still my commanding officer, never even thought of it, I mean, us getting together was as much of a surprise to him as it was to me... I know him. I know he's wondered if he somehow abused his rank without knowing, wondered if I felt like I had to because of it. Who knows? Maybe if he actually talked to me about it I could have knocked some sense into him and we might still be together."

Russel looked like he was confused at his own thoughts. I certainly had no idea what to do with mine. We sat in awkward silence for a long, long time. He's the one who broke it with a quietly whispered question.

"Did he ask you out?"

".... Yeah. But he didn't plan to. It was obvious that it just kind of came out."

"And... what did you say?"

"Hm. Nothing." Russel looked up with a raised brow. "He answered his own question. Said I'd be crazy to go back to him. Heh... I think he hats himself more that you hate him."

Russel didn't know how to take that last statement. Finally he got his bearings back.

"What would you have said?"

"... I honestly don't know. It caught me off guard. Ask me tomorrow and I might have it figured out."

Another unbearably long pause. "You gave him a piece of paper."

"Our phone number. He needs help, Russel. The kind of help you gave me."

He seemed to take it as well as possible. Meaning that he frowned but there wasn't any more yelling.

"And after?"

I turned to him, confused.

"After he's back on his feet, if he asks you again?"

_A chance with someone who already knows all about my past and still doesn't hate me? Someone who's actually attracted to men?_

".... I might."

Russel suddenly stood. "I guess we should get that painting on the wall, right?"

I felt numb. "Yeah."

"I'll go get it. You get the hammer."

"Okay. Sounds like a plan."


	21. Chapter 21

Things quieted down after that. Russel still got a little grumpy whenever I mentioned Roy but he kept it at annoyed frowns. I figured that was as good as it was going to get; one of the best and worst things about Rus is how protective he would get about people he cared about. I figured that since he was suppressing that instinct I could live with the occasional sulk.

As for Roy he didn't actually call until two weeks later. I was almost to the point of trying to track him down when he finally rang. It was disconcerting to hear him so uncertain and panicky. However much I hated his smug attitude when I was under his command, it was just... constant. It was always there, like how the sun would come up each day. It's strange, the things you come to miss.

We started meeting for lunch, a few walks through the city on weekends, things like that. I learned that he broke off all contact with his old team years ago; when I mentioned Havoc making colonel and how the sun was going to implode any second it was the first he'd heard of it.

He'd shut himself away in a house on the outside of town, a great deal nicer than my old shack but the mood of the building was the same. We didn't meet in his house partly because he didn't want me to see how he was living and partly because I felt I could make a concession to Russel since he made progress in the protective department. Roy and I would talk about what we could in public, used some code for the rest but for the most part we left those taboo topics alone. Homosexual relationships and attempted suicides are best left behind closed doors, after all. It was for the best, anyway; I think that given the opportunity Roy would have gone straight for the heavy topics and then wounded pride would be an issue and we never would have gotten anywhere after that.

...He was i_really_/i screwed up. I don't know how much longer he would have lasted without help.

One of the main differences between our respective depressions is that I cut myself off from other people due to indifference and he did it out of pride. And I learned pretty quickly that pride was a lot harder to cut through than indifference. A couple weeks in I asked in passing if he wanted to have lunch with Havoc and me and his answer was a resounding 'no'.

I kicked myself later for not realizing how hard that would be for Roy, seeing his subordinate at the rank he lost. It's not as though he'd begrudge Havoc that or anything... but it would be hard. I could understand; sometimes I was jealous of Al and Fletch and the adventures they had traveling around.

However, even with all the roadblocks, the progress did come. Roy started eating better, stopped looking quite so worn. About two months in he actually smiled. Not the half-hearted fake smiles he'd been giving me but a i_real_/i one. It was good to see actual proof that we were getting somewhere.

It kind of gave proof of something else too. Those flutters I'd feel when he was around... they were fading fast anyway, but when he genuinely smiled at me it really hit that I didn't feel anything for him anymore. There was the slightest flicker of something, but it was a flicker and nothing more. In those first weeks the trembling in my heart was just the memory of when I actually felt it. After two years of wondering I finally had the answer: I didn't love Roy anymore.

I didn't quite know how to take this revelation. When he came back into my life there was a big part of me hoping that Roy and I would get back together. He was actually attracted to men and he knew enough of my dark secrets that I didn't have to worry about how he'd react to the rest. But I guess it could never be that easy. I just didn't feel the spark I used to. I hated to admit it—it meant that the only romantic option even close to easy was closed—but we were over.

I really wanted to tell Russel this because I'm sure it would have taken the protectiveness down a few notches, but I didn't trust myself. If he got into what kind of guy I would like to be with... I was sure I would give something away. Besides, I reasoned that it would be good for him to get over this dumbness on his own. Even if I did still have feelings for Roy it wouldn't be any of his business. Well, sure, he could be concerned and a little protective of my emotions, given that he is my closest friend, but even then _I_ could be trusted on my own for a bit. He acted as if he thought I would throw myself at Roy the second he asked or something. Even at my most depressed my pride would have held me back from acting without thinking like that, but Russel didn't seem to understand that.

Then again Russel might have just assumed that my logic centers would still be shorted out from dealing with him for an hour.

It was a day in late summer, just past the one year anniversary of our moving in together. The fact that he insisted on calling it our anniversary had me hiding the irritating blush for days. I had just gotten through that stint of hopeless daydreaming and was washing the supper dishes when he snuck up, hugged me from behind, and whispered, "Happy not-Birthday," in my ear.

Well that caused about fifteen kinds of heart-stopping panic.

"Wow, you're tense," he murmured, i_still_/iwrapped around me.

i_I damn well wonder b__**why/b**__!_/i I didn't shout.

Russel continued, oblivious to the terror he was causing, "It's a good thing my present is something that'll help you relax."

i_You can help by not giving me a heart attack why won't you let me b__**go/b**__ if you breathe in my ear again I swear I'm going to keel over,_/iis about what I thought. "Oh?" is what I said. I don't know if it was a result of restraint or the fact that my brain was somewhat out of commission.

He finally, i_finally_/i, let go and stepped away. And then of course I found myself wishing I was back in his arms and struggling with that feeling really wasn't helping my state of mind. If this present of his was supposed to help me relax then he sure as hell wasn't off to a good start.

I took a second to gather myself and then I turned around. Russel was beaming and I was almost tempted to hit him for the personal crisis he inadvertently caused. I was pulled from those dangerous thoughts when he held up a piece of paper.

"Why do you have a certificate from a physical therapy office?" I asked after reading it.

"Because," he replied smugly, "I am now certified in deep tissue massage for persons with auto-mail limbs."

That last bit was important since a regular masseuse wouldn't know how to work around the places where bone met metal, and hard pressure on those points could be very painful. Since he was my medical 'in case of emergency' Russel had long since memorized the configuration numbers for my connections so it wouldn't be hard for him to look up where the plates connected. He clearly planned and researched this well so that he wouldn't cause me pain.

Which was i_very bad_/i because I couldn't claim his ignorance as a reason why he couldn't give me a massage.

Somewhere between the kitchen and the stairs my brain collapsed. I maintained the sense to take the lead so he wouldn't be able to see my face running through expressions of panic, longing, terror, and back to panic. Fried as I was I knew better than to even try to argue about the shirt; I shucked it off as I was passing the doorframe and then I was practically leaping at the bed so I could get my face in the pillows before he could see that anything was wrong.

He had to feel me flinch when he first touched my back, but he didn't say anything about it. What with my ongoing heart attack there was probably enough tension in those muscles to break his fingers, but he just went for it. He started out with light prods, which wasn't doing anything to help. He figured this out after a few minutes that seemed like eternity and abruptly switched to heavy pressure. After he ground his knuckles into the back of my neck a few times I stopped worrying about making a fool of myself because it felt i_so good_/i. Nothing sexual, thanks, just.... really nice. Like sitting down with a cup of chamomile after a long, stressful day, except that feeling wasi_really_/i intense.

I don't even know how long that first massage took but I was jelly by the time he got up and announced he was done. Somewhere in there Russel had even straddled my waist to get better leverage and I couldn't make myself get embarrassed and panicky about it. I was too relaxed to care about my stupid crush, or the deadlines at the lab, or Roy's still questionable mental state, or i_anything_/i.

"This is a very, very good present," I blissfully mumbled into the pillow.

Russel laughed. "I'm glad you like it. From now on you're getting one anytime I see you rubbing at your neck and wincing."

"Mmph?"

"Yeah you do."

I barely managed to turn my head so that he could actually hear me. "Thanks, Rus. You didn't have to-"

"You're always stressed out and I know you'd never let a stranger work on you. It was either get certified or watch you rip your muscles in half."

"You're..." a giant yawn, "probably right..."

Russel chuckled. "Why don't you sleep it off?" He ruffled my hair and I smiled. "I'll get the rest of the dishes."

"You do that..." I managed before I drifted off.


	22. Chapter 22

I was starting to realize that my life was nothing more than string of panic attacks linked together by periods of getting used to whatever caused the last one. It was no wonder I was so stressed that Russel decided to learn massage as a present. It's funny too; everyone at work thinks that he's the high strung one and that I've got it together. The thing is that he shows his stress and through that he gets rid of it. I bottle it up and the pressure just builds and builds, and even though I know that this isn't the best idea I can't seem to break myself of the pattern. So there's soothing tea and the occasional lemon cake and Russel's massages and somewhere in there I actually managed to loosen up the tiniest bit.

At least, that's what Roy told me maybe two months after Russel scared the living daylights out of me with the first massage. By that point I'd gotten used to the whole idea of him having his hands all over me, just as I'd gotten used to waking up next to him after a nightmare or his damnable habit of walking around the house shirtless. I guess two months was how long it took to get numb enough that the benefits outweighed all the new stress my roommate was inadvertently causing.

Roy was doing a lot better by then as well. Still a frayed around the edges to be sure, but he didn't look like a corpse anymore. He was getting a touch of his vanity back by that point, which might seem like a bad thing but this is Roy Mustang we're talking about. His initial total lack of primping really worried me, but he was getting starting to care about his appearance again. For starters he cut his hair, which had grown to a ragged line halfway down his neck. A little while after that his shirts were ironed more often than not and the dark circles under his eyes faded down to a less distressing shade. He also seemed more comfortable talking to be and existing around other people in general.

When Roy finally did invite me to his house it was obvious why he never had before. You know, aside from the whole 'we used to be lovers' thing. Even when he judged it fit for me to see it the place was sparse to say the least. I don't think it was quite as bad as my pre-Russel shack, but again, this is Roy we're talking about. I never actually saw his apartment back in my State days, but once when I was leaving his office I heard the most recent date talking with a secretary about how his home was very nicely furnished and decorated without being gaudy. At the time I didn't really register anything other than the fact that she called him _'Roy Toy_' so I could snicker about it, but standing there staring at the bare walls called the memory up with a vengeance.

I wondered, for just a second, how he would have reacted if I ever called him Roy Toy. I shook my head to dislodge the thought and he looked at me funny.

Roy nervously made us tea and we settled at the kitchen table. It obviously also functioned as a writing desk if the splashes of ink on the surface and the fact that the third chair held a typewriter were any indication. Roy tried to make casual conversation but he must have realized how forced it sounded because he suddenly reached for a stack of papers and handed it to me.

"I got a job," he all but stammered as I flipped through the pages. His handwriting was so bad it might as well have been in code (was it always this bad, I wondered) but there were typed sheets here and there in the stack. Those seemed to be drafts of articles pertaining to alchemy. Primarily the need for checks and balances in the research system.

"You know the publication," he continued while pointedly looking out the window. "They've featured a few of your articles denouncing chimera research...."

He paused and I wondered if I still had that twitch in my good hand when someone mentioned chimeras. I thought I buried that years ago.

"... there's an editor who seems to like my work. Or maybe he just feels sorry for me. Either way he says that I'm good at explaining the technical side of alchemy to laymen."

I nodded. I remembered one time when Fuery asked how a fairly simple array worked and I just couldn't describe it in a way that made sense to him. Al did a little better than me but he was still talking way above Fuery's head. And it's not like he was a dumb guy, we just couldn't make ourselves see the array as he would. We'd been trying for almost half an hour when Roy came along and got the point across in two minutes and he did it without being patronizing. I was a bit better at explaining basic concepts to laymen but I still couldn't manage to not sound patronizing.

"... So on top of articles like those I'll be doing a column explaining concepts in every issue."

"This is good, Roy," I said, smiling ear to ear as I returned his notes. "It's good work and it's obviously really good for you. I'm glad you're doing better."

Seeing him smile, really smile, was like finally figuring out a particularly difficult equation. By the time I got home I was still grinning.

"You look like you're happy about something," Russel remarked. He was sprawled out on the sofa with a stack of files next to him on the coffee table.

I flopped down on the armchair facing the couch, letting my head lean back so I was staring at the ceiling. "Oh, it's just been a good day."

He raised an eyebrow in question.

"Roy's doing a lot better," I elaborated, "meaning he doesn't look like a corpse anymore. He invited me back to his house today and showed me his drafts for the articles he's working on."

".... Articles?"

"Yeah. He's got a steady job writing articles for Circular Design. There were a few talking about the importance of keeping an eye on scientists to make sure they don't..." A dark alleyway with a red starburst on the gray brick flashed into my mind, "... but he's also got a regular column explaining alchemy's inner workings. Roy's always been good at explaining complex ideas in a way that anyone can understand."

".... You went back to his house?"

In an instant I went from overjoyed to _very_ annoyed, which did at least scare off my old demons for the time being. I sat up and glared at Rus, who had stopped his work and was sitting there looking suspicious.

I rolled my eyed. "Yes, I saw his house. I'm pretty sure he waited a few months before doing so because he didn't want me to get the wrong idea, which I _didn't_."

Russel looked uncomfortable and he turned his eyes back to his work even though it was obvious he wasn't seeing it. He was probably remembering the fight we had when Roy first came back into my life. Since he was keeping quiet I figured I wouldn't yell at him about his ridiculous over-protectiveness, at least not this time.

But then something clicked in my head and I couldn't help but punish him in a different way.

"You know who you sound like?"

He looked wary. I'm guessing I was wearing the same dangerous grin I used to wear right before destroying property, so the wariness was probably justified and then some.

"Elizabeth Conway. That's who you sound like."

Wary gave way to confused. "Your intern? You've told me she's brilliant, and efficient and-"

"And it's a good thing too because otherwise I'd throw a book at her for talking too much?" I sighed in reflexive irritation. "Yeah, that Elizabeth Conway. The one who would have been out the door a long time ago if she wasn't such a good assistant _aside_ from her inability to shut up."

"No, the reason she's still around is because her crush on you is good for your ego," he jabbed. Then his eyes narrowed. "... How exactly do I sound like a teenage girl who, according to you, once talked about shoes for two hours without even taking a breath of air?"

"For one thing, she doesn't have a crush on me."

"I know that she doesn't have a _romantic _crush on you. She has an _alchemy_ crush on you. She wants to have sex with your arrays. It's quite disturbing actually."

This had become a well worn semi-argument in the four months Elizabeth had been my assistant, and I knew that if I let it go on we'd be there for an hour and I'd never be able to draw my parallel.

"_Anyway_ the reason why you sound like her is because lately she hasn't been talking about shoes. She's been talking about her boyfriend."

Rus abandoned his papers to the mess on the coffee table. I celebrated a minor victory since that meant he was interested. "If I remember correctly," he said as he tossed his pen in my general direction, "she already talks about him constantly. I've heard all about—Davis, right?—through your ranting about Conway. He's got tan skin and green eyes and the most gorgeous black hair you've ever seen and he's a farm boy and he's _tall_..."

It was only through the virtue of years of mental training and physically biting my tongue that kept me from rising to _that_ insult.

Russel paused, waiting for my reaction, and continued with regret when it didn't come, "... and he's working at the hospital as an orderly and he's so strong and... stop me when this gets familiar."

"You can stop here."

"Did I mention that he's tall? Because he is."

I forged ahead as if he hadn't said anything at all, "Recently her jabber has been more specifically about Davis's childhood friend who is in Central visiting. Jack."

Rus shrugged. "So?"

"Jack is short for Jackie Lynn."

Russel's expression was bordering on exasperated. "I think that this conversation might have started with the assertion that I sound like Conway for reasons yet to be disclosed."

"Lizzy dear will not shut up about Davis and Jack spending time together. Alone. By the way from all my reckoning the friendship is solidly in the same area as Winry and me."

"I'm still waiting for your reasoning, _Edward_."

When he calls me by my full first name in that tone it's time to get on with it. Not that I couldn't take him.

"When you're being ridiculous about Roy you sound exactly like Elizabeth being ridiculous about her boyfriend having a female best friend. That is the level of maturity you are demonstrating. You are my jealous girlfriend."

He started to say something but stopped before the words would come. I looked at him curiously; this was not one of the reactions I had expected. After a few moments of awkward silence he found his voice again.

"I would think that, if anything," he seemed to be choosing his words more carefully than the situation warranted, "_I_ would be the jealous _boy_friend and _you_ would be the _girl_friend. You have the long hair."

I grinned._ Oh, this is going to be __**fun**_.

"Now then," I drawled, "you're just being a biased city boy with that. Or should I say city girl. Just because you were raised Central where they seem to have something against long haired guys doesn't mean the rest of us are crazy."

"No, you're just backwards."

"Besides, even if I get girl points for my hair—which shouldn't count anyway since yours may be shorter but it's _much_ prettier—then there's your obsessions with skin creams that smell like peaches."

He glared. "Not everyone was blessed with bronze skin, Ed. If I look out the window I get sunburned."

"_Peaches_."

"What about that vanilla stuff you put in your pretty girl hair?"

"You hair is still prettier and they don't make that no tangle stuff in anything but horrible flower scents and vanilla, so it's the lesser of two evils. Skin cream, however, comes in non-peach varieties."

He rubbed his cheek, "Ed..."

"And," I continued, "How about when you ran me ragged for weeks until I finally gave in and let you redo my wardrobe in clothes that were more '_flattering_'—your words, not mine! Admit it, Rus, you're my pretty little jealous peach-scented girlfriend."

I waited for his rebuttal but it never came. Russel was looking away from me and he was biting his lip.

_Great going, Elric,_ I internally berated as I crossed to the couch. _You were just supposed to mutually tease and then you blew right over the line into insulting. It's a wonder he even puts up with you._

"Look, Russel," I said as I sat down next to him and placed my hand on his shoulder, "I was just kidding. I didn't mean to-"

He turned towards me and spontaneously hugged me. When he pulled away he said, "I know. You did touch a nerve but not in the way you're thinking."

I'd never been much for touching after the, well, that night, but Russel had always been physically affectionate and I was more than willing to comfort him through human contact if that's what he wanted. After so long living with him I didn't even feel that usual claustrophobic twinge I'd get when someone wouldn't let go of my hand after shaking it. So when he hugged me again and didn't let go I held him while trying to puzzle out what he meant.

Eventually Russel leaned back, though he kept his arms loosely around my waist and so I kept my hands on his shoulders. He looked at me, painfully indecisive, and then he leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. He'd been doing that a lot lately. I had assumed because it was always part of his physical affection repertoire and he judged that I was finally comfortable enough with him to allow it. When he leaned back he looked like he had made up his mind about something.

"What was that for?" I asked.

"I..." He looked down and bit his lip again. "You know you're terrific, right?"

I couldn't help but blush a bit and feel very awkward.

He snorted. "Right, you _don't_. You don't seem to realize how lucky a guy would be to have you. To be the one you _chose_ to be with."

Russel's battle with my low self-esteem was nothing new. I knew that arguing the facts wasn't going to help at all so I just looked to the side. He cupped my cheek and I reluctantly turned back at him. He was beyond nervous but that resolve to do _something_ was still there.

"Well..." he said with a gulp, "here goes. Please don't punch me."

"What?"

"Or if you do, punch me with your left hand, okay?"

"Russel, you're not making any-"

He leaned in again, but this time he kissed me softly on the lips.


	23. Chapter 23

When Russel crashed on my couch for that first weekend we didn't exactly know each other very well. In fact, our past experience could be summed up with the phrase "I'm going to stab you." Obviously we had reached some level of a truce by the time Al and I left Xenotime but Rus and I still didn't know anything about the other beyond the twisted facts of red water. Since I didn't know anything about him personally I really shouldn't have been all that surprised when he turned out to be rampantly physically affectionate. I still found myself looking back at our brief acquaintance trying to find some clue as to where this came from. I could never pin anything down, but he _was_ under a lot of stress at the time so maybe that's why it didn't show in Xenotime.

It started with a hand laid on my shoulder, things like that. Perfectly socially acceptable touches for colleagues, even if they don't know each other too well. Acceptable for society but not necessarily for me. However, since my discomfort was due to me being dumb about people knowing I had auto-mail and Russel already knew I suppressed my negative reaction. I actually got used to it pretty quickly; I think I was so desperate for human contact that it overwhelmed everything else.

As we got to know each other better Russel started getting more touchy feely, which I didn't mind. I liked the contact. He didn't mind the auto-mail. He wasn't scared off by my horrible past and secrets. He knew everything—almost everything—and he was still there. Being reminded of it with those little touches was nice.

When the nightmares were particularly bad and he was holding me he'd always kiss my forehead or hair between telling me he was there and that it was all over. In the past couple months he'd gotten a little gushier about it and he'd kiss my cheek on the way up to bed. It seemed a little weird at first, of course, but then I looked back and figured that this was the logical progression to his habit of physical contact. After all anytime our brothers would visit he'd say goodbye to Fletcher with a peck on the cheek. Russel was probably just glad that his best friend wasn't stupidly macho about that sort of thing.

… But a kiss on the lips? That seemed a little over the top even for him. I didn't have a problem with it or anything; it was just strange. Not just because of the placement but because of the look on his face. He seemed uncertain and more than a little nervous.

_He probably thinks I'm going to clock him_, I realized. _Wow, I've been around him for too long. The 'in love with him' problem didn't even give me tingly lips or anything… well, barely tingly._

"So…" I started, "what was that for?"

If he was nervous before then we need a new word for what he was then. I could read the conflict in his energy and in his tense body language. Not to mention the fact that he was obviously grasping for anything to say to me and was failing to come up with anything. He reached up and brushed my bangs aside, pointless since my hair would fall right back where it was before. Russel had started doing that a lot in the weeks prior to this awkward non-chat, along with the pecks on the cheek and hugging me more. His usual physical affection had gotten more intimate and a lot more frequent.

This is when I started getting worried.

I ran through the list of things that could be wrong. If it was Fletcher then I would have heard something about it, if not from Russel then from Al. Even if Al didn't know what was wrong he would have picked up on something, and he could never keep even small worries from me.

It couldn't be work since being a brilliant scientist apparently required you to be a huge gossip. Nothing ever happened to anyone, even insignificant personal stuff, without the whole branch of the lab knowing about it. The danger of being ripped off was ever present and anyone who had loose lips about the business of it got weeded out quickly, so details were often clear as mud. However, without fail, anytime someone got fired or a project got axed everyone already knew what was going to happen. Even moderate reprimands and other less serious matters. We'd never know who or what the target was going to be but we always knew that someone was getting it.

No talk in the office of anything amiss. In fact everything was sunny since there were rumors that our budgets were about to see a slight increase instead of the usual cut. Russel's projects and job were safe.

If it wasn't family or work then it could be friends. I had few friends because I'm impossible to get along with, an infliction Russel didn't share. However he was as dedicated—or obsessed—with his job as I was and that left little time for building relationships. He was friendly with a lot of people but the only ones who counted as friends were Winry, who was tough enough to survive our mutual neglect, and Lora Bates, the artist who we inadvertently got hooked on alchemy.

Winry had set up an auto-mail shop in Central, saying she could help more people in a bigger town, and her business was doing very well. Since she was even more obsessed with her job than Russel and I put together that was pretty much the only consideration for her happiness.

We'd just gone to a show where Lora had a couple alchemy inspired pieces, and while she wasn't really sweeping the scene at that point she was selling enough paintings that she was well out of the starving artist range. She even had a steady enough income to move out of her old apartment and leave her irritating roommate behind and was settling in with a fellow student whom she got along with perfectly. His worry couldn't be tied to either of them.

By process of elimination there was probably something medically wrong. He'd been acting strangely for almost two months, and if he hadn't told anyone what it was in that long of a time then it had to be something serious. _Very_ serious.

In the time it took me to come to that conclusion Russel still hadn't said anything. If he was sitting any closer he'd have been in my lap. He was holding my real hand tightly and his other hand had settled at the joint of my shoulder and neck. Lots of contact usually meant that he was trying to comfort me. For once I wasn't the one with the problem.

I passed worried and launched into suppressed panic.

"Russel, what is wrong?" I asked, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. I reached up and gingerly placed my right hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him with as much physical contact as I could muster. I had to make sure he felt safe enough to tell me what was wrong so I could start trying to fix it.

"Nothing," he finally managed. I knew Russel's response was complete bull; his energy was constantly shifting with inner conflict and he was refusing to meet my eyes. He was also blushing.

_Okay, so whatever it is embarrasses him_, I thought, still trying to puzzle out the reason behind all this. _I'd be willing to assume that all the nervousness is because he's embarrassed instead of it being something seriously wrong, except for the fact that he's been more touchy-feely these past few weeks. _I suppressed the urge to sigh in frustration. _What the hell is going on?_

Rus could definitely tell that I wasn't buying it. He qualified, "Well, it _is_ something. Something big. I mean uh…"

The blush got about ten shades brighter. I didn't know he could get that red.

He started rambling. "What I mean is that it _could_ be big. For both of us. I'm not sure yet. How you'll take it, I mean. I don't want to lose you as a friend."

_Not good_.

"Rus, you're never getting rid of me no matter what happens," I told him, somehow managing to keep my tone light. "By now you should have figured out that you're stuck with me."

He relaxed, but not by much. He started distractedly playing with my bangs.

I continued. "So now that we've established that you're crazy for thinking I'm going anywhere, will you please tell me what's wrong? And if you say 'nothing' again I'm going to punch you."

He was obviously trying to work up the courage for something, and it was taking a long time. He was probably never as bad as I was but one of the things we had in common was a certain impulsiveness. Even after growing out of the teenage phase and learning how to hold our tongues we tended to blurt out things that made for uncomfortable situations with our higher ups. Russel tended to be less coherent than I was when he said things without thinking so I didn't expect to know what was going on based on his first explanation. Problem was that the only incoherent thing he said about it had to do with how I'd react, not anything about the issue itself. The fact that he was worried enough about it to keep a firm leash on his mouth wasn't really promising.

"Russel, you're scaring me."

After hearing that and seeing that I wasn't kidding he managed to shake the words loose.

"It's not life threatening, you know. Unless you decide to punch me. Then it could be."

I ran through all the possibilities and again came up blank.

"Rus, you are not making _any_ sense."

He nodded, took a deep breath, and finally told me what the hell was going on. He spoke in careful, measured tones, and while he might have rambled before what he said next was obviously rehearsed. There was no trace of humor or any hint that it was some kind of joke.

"I think I might—no, I am _sure_—that I am attracted to you, and I would like to try to start a romantic relationship. If you want to."

I swear all the neurons in my brain ceased all electric impulse and shut down for a few seconds. I just froze, body and mind, for a moment or two.

When I woke up I wasn't exactly happy.

I ripped our joined hands apart, jumped up from the couch, and spun on him. "What the hell is _wrong_ with you!"

He was shocked, confused, and maybe even a little hurt. I was flat out livid so I didn't really care.

"So what, _Tringham_, you decide you want to do an experiment and _obviously_ I'll be okay with being the test group, huh?" The amount of venom in my voice surprised me, but in a deep, detached way. It didn't touch the here and now. I kept going, "Is there some girl out there you're using as a control group?"

"Ed, I, wha-" he sputtered.

I steamrolled over his words. "Are you telling me that you believe the anti-homosexual activists who keep telling everyone that any man like me will jump into bed with any guy who looks at him?"

Russel leapt up, righteous anger cutting through his shock. He reached for me as he cried, "_NO!_ That's not what I meant, Ed!"

I jerked away from his touch and stalked to the other side of the living room. "Then what the hell could you have meant!"

He was starting to get pissed. Still didn't hold a candle to how I was feeling but he was doing his best to catch up.

"Damn it, Ed, you know me better than that, don't you? How can you think that I believe those idiots?"

I threw up my hands in a careless gesture. "If all evidence observed points to the same solid conclusion…"

Russel might have been at level rage with me at that point. He slammed his hand into the wall and shouted, "You've been my closest friend for _five years! _How could you accuse me of something like that! Ed, you know me better than my own _brother_."

"What am I _supposed_ to think?" I yelled back. "Why else would you proposition me for your little test to see if you're attracted to m-"

"I already _know_ that I'm attracted to you!"

"What, because of that stupid drunken kiss?"

"It has nothing to do with that!"

"Then _where did this come from_?"

"I don't know!" He turned away and paced. "That is that I don't know how it started. I've felt this way for a while, I don't know how long, but I only realized what it was after you pointed out that I've been acting like an insecure girlfriend. I stepped back, I examined my reactions, and I realized that I _was_ jealous." He stopped dead and glared at me as though he blamed me for having to admit this. "I'm _jealous_ of that piece of trash Mustang. Do you hear me?" He started pacing again, furiously rubbing his eyes as he did. "I realized that I want you to look at me the way you look at him sometimes. The way you looked at him when he caught up with you at that café." He slowed down and his expression softened. He looked back at me almost shyly, eyes full of caring and hope. "Edward, I want to know what it's like to be with you."

I learned a lot in my quest for the Philosopher's Stone. The Gate taught me that nothing comes without a price. Tucker taught me that anyone can be hiding a rotten black heart. In Fifth Laboratory I learned that a human life isn't worth all that much. The Slicer Brothers taught me that there is honor left in this world even if it is hard to find.

While I found out plenty about the sorry state of the human race, and yeah, the few glimmers of something pure scattered around, most of what I learned was about myself. Nothing pure there. In Lab 5 Lust showed me the evil in my heart. Greed taught me what kind of violence I can commit.

That sunrise in Risembool cast its red light over my mother's decayed skeleton and even as I staggered away to be violently sick in the bushes I knew that there was no wrong I wasn't capable of. As I collapsed by her desecrated grave I felt rage, childish panic, desperate hope. I knew then how dangerous I could be with that mix in my cursed blood.

I had to get away from Russel.

"You've lost it," I stated as though it were an established fact, memory and knowledge honing my voice into a frozen razor edge. My room was my only goal; I would have fled the house but I knew that I would have broken down before I reached the street. Once I got to my room I could alchemically seal the door and have my breakdown in peace. "When you're ready to make sense," I added, praying to a god that never existed that he wouldn't follow, "_then_ you can talk to me again. Not before."

_Just get to the stairs just get to your room_—I turned and walked towards my goal—_just keep going one foot in front of the other_—I wanted desperately to run but the barely controlled tremors wouldn't allow it—_just get behind the door and seal it fast and then you can let go_—

Russel lunged at me and grabbed my arm.

When you have an auto-mail leg it's pretty hard to hurt someone with it by accident unless you step on their foot with your heavier than usual limb. Hands and arms, now that's a different story. A thoughtless gesture could break a nose or knock out teeth, a lack of care could bruise and cut. I'm very self-conscious about my auto-mail given the reason why I need it, and I think that shame has helped me with my control. During the adjustment period I badly bruised Winry's shins when I tripped, but other than that I've never hurt someone with my auto-mail unless I meant to do it.

My left side was towards him so when he made his move he grabbed my left arm. I was too far gone to hold on to my carefully built safeties regarding my auto-mail. I swung at him with my free arm. My right arm.

I didn't really have the room to put my weight behind it. Maybe better sense kicked in at the last second and I pulled back the slightest bit. Plus he must have realized what was coming and tried to roll with the punch. Even considering all this I still can't believe the blow didn't shatter his skull.

Russel clutched at his face and staggered back into the wall. I started forward intent on making sure he was okay but then I remembered why I punched him in the first place. He shouldn't have tried to stop me. He shouldn't have said what he said. So I stood there and stared at him while he swore and felt his cheek until finally he let the hand fall so he could glare murder at me. There was a laceration over his cheekbone where the edge of a plate caught in just the wrong way with no glove for cushioning.

The cut was bleeding freely. Any other time and I'd already be in the car driving him to get stitches. Of course, any other time and he wouldn't be bleeding in the first place.

I let anger reign and decided that he could damn well drive himself to the emergency room.

I turned towards the stairs again. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Russel dive for me again. I moved to elbow him in the stomach—left arm this time—but he stepped back and used my momentum to spin me. Facing him and still off balance I tried to push him away but he read me like a book and nullified the shove. I crossed back over the line into not caring if I seriously hurt him and tried to knock his legs out from under him with my left foot.

Again he read my move and dodged, quickly recovering and barreling right into me. We slammed into the wall and he used his whole body to pin me to it; with him so close I couldn't effectively kick. I tried to knee him in the crotch but he anticipated it and forced me down the wall a few centimeters, positioning his feet between mine. My auto-mail arm was trapped between us, my real arm free but he was pressing my left shoulder into the wall so I had no leverage to do anything. I couldn't even get enough leeway to slide the rest of the way down the wall so I could hit him in the legs. I was pinned with no real hope of getting free unless he let me go. I was completely at his mercy.

There was one other time I'd been pinned like that. Back against the wall, knees bent, someone's body pressed against me. I could smell the humidity, heard the echoes off the tile, felt the ghost of a cold revolver barrel pressing against my neck.

Russel barked my name but I was too dazed to respond. I was reeling from bad memories and when I managed to grab hold of the present once again I realized that I had seen Archer in my best friend. Russel might have me pinned but he would _never_ do anything like what happened in that shower and I knew it. The fact that I had seen a different set of blue eyes, even for a second, made me feel physically sick.

I think he saw it—there's no way to hide that kind of self-revulsion—because the next time he said my name it was soft and gentle. His free hand brushed against my hair and I looked up at him, way up since I was part way down the wall. I felt a flash of irritation and I clung to it like a life raft. I hadn't resented him for being taller than me for years but the best weapon against deep dark demons is the stupid and petty.

"Look," he started again, his anger fading into something more hurt, "I will understand if you turn me down because I _know_ that those idiots are wrong. But first I need to know that you know what you're turning down, okay?"

I just glared. He glared back.

"Now you listen to me, Edward. I'm not asking this on some whim. I've been examining how I feel for two months. I wouldn't have told you this if I wasn't sure of what I was feeling. You're an amazing person, I like being around you, and I like your mind."

"So—"

"Wait until I finish."

"I don't exactly have a _choice_ do I?" Ah, sweet stupid teenage height complex. I wasn't even seeing blue and white tiles anymore.

Russel looked guilty and eased up on my shoulder a little bit, though I still couldn't get away without seriously hurting him. Getting an up close look at my handiwork on his cheek had my safeties firmly in locked down so that wasn't happening.

He continued, "All of that makes you my best friend. But not wanting you to be around Mustang? being _so_ jealous of him because he knows what it's like to kiss you? _Wanting_ to kiss you, hold your hand, all that couple stuff? That's something else."

I tried not to hear. "No," I mumbled, "that's just you being overprotective."

"Wanting to _kiss you_ is just me being overprotective?"

My face got hot and I _really_ tried not to hear. _Stop talking about kissing me!_ I shouted in my head. Out loud I said, "I'm not going to be a part of your experi—"

"This _isn't_ an experiment!"

Denial was the only shield I had left. "_Yes it is!_"

"Damn it, Ed, have you gone deaf? I said I wanted to try for _romance_, not sex." He was emphatic and every gram of his energy was screaming that he believe what he was saying. "I want to _be_ with you."

"Why!" I cried. "Why the hell would you want that with me?"

"Because I think I can make you happy!"

I gulped. The hope was so much more dangerous than the anger or fear. He _wanted_ me. He wanted _me_. If I said yes then he'd be my boyfriend.

As much as I wanted to say yes I knew I couldn't. This could only end in disaster. He honestly thought it would work but I know that you can't just will yourself to like a sex if you're programmed against it. He'd try, just like how homosexual men like me have tried and succeeded to have wives. But one day he's going to realize that he's not really attracted to guys.

Even if he was right it still wouldn't work. I know Russel and I know that he tends to skip over the long term details. He's rampantly physically affectionate but if he's with me then he's never going to be able to show that. Not being able to hold hands or do anything else romantic in public would kill him. Plus it's not like we'd be able to have children and he was born to be a father.

He'd realize that it was all a mistake and then I'd lose him. This little altercation against the wall was a reminder that we weren't the most level headed of people. When it ended it wouldn't be a clean break. We'd crash and burn and probably take out half the neighborhood in the process. I'd lose his friendship.

I picked out the core of the problem and mumbled, "When it falls apart you'll leave."

He let go of my shoulder and held my face in his hands, leaning down and pressing another chaste kiss to my lips. "Ed, I _promise_ you that I won't leave."

I felt the tingles _that_ time. "Can't make that promise," I protested, but I knew I was losing grip.

"Yes I can. Even if it ends in a big fight I won't leave. At least not permanently; I'll probably spend a week in a hotel so we can both cool off and get used to not being together anymore, but after that week I _will _come back." He stepped away so I could get back on my feet and then he hugged me close. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."

My better senses screamed against it, but I was too weak. I never had a chance once he started rubbing my back and softly smiling. He waited for my answer, not pressing me with words but he did keep leaning down to press his lips to mine. Russel was looking at me like I was worth something. Like I was someone worth loving.

"C-come on," I barely managed to say. "We n-need to get your cheek looked at… sorry."

I moved to get the car keys but he held me in place. "Ed, what's your answer?"

_He'll keep his promise, won't he?_ Even in my own head I sounded desperate._ I'm sure it'll take more than a week but he will come back. He always honors any vow he makes, right?_

I managed a nod. He smiled wide and then winced when it pulled at his damaged cheek a little much. I pushed away the fact that I'd just made a horrible mistake and focused on getting his injury taken care of.

_Right, Rus, this is going to work out __**great**_, I thought cynically as I started the car. _First thing I do as your boyfriend is send you to the __**hospital**__._


	24. Chapter 24

"So how did this happen again, son?"

Russel tried very hard not to look at me and I tried very hard not to look guilty. I don't think it worked because the doctor was looking suspiciously at me. Rus waved off the question and laughed, "Oh, my fault. I was excited about a new idea and I managed to forget that grabbing Ed when he's grumpy and tired is a bad idea. Fighter's instinct you know, and since we spar all the time so his instinct really doesn't check me as someone to treat like glass like he does with—" the doctor sighed and made another stitch, "—ow!"

"Are you sure you don't want to file a _complaint_?" he asked while glaring at me pointedly. I glared back.

Russel started to shake his head and then remembered that a needle was a few centimeters from his eye. "Hey like I said. I mean, the only reason he reacted like that is because I grabbed him and he was already testy because some idiot was saying stupid stuff without thinking, and we were both tired so neither of us knew better. Honest. Look how bad he feels about nothing!"

I sunk lower in the chair and mumbled, "Five stitches isn't nothing."

"Pfft," he scoffed. "Remember when I went a bit too far in practice and managed to seriously bruise your ribs? I don't know how I didn't crack them but even just bruised it was a month before you stopped holding yourself funny." He looked back at the doctor and told him in earnest "I really am being honest. We bruise each other all the time sparring. That's how we met actually."

I tried to bury a snort. Yeah, sparring. That's a good euphemism for us trying to kill each other in Xenotime.

The doctor didn't look all that convinced but he stopped pushing Russel to press charges. To be honest I was on the doc's side; no matter how pissed and upset and confused I was I should _not_ have lashed out with my auto-mail. Carelessness with a metal limb can do as much if not more damage than actually trying to hurt people with it. I could have shattered my best friend's jaw and cheek with that blow.

_Best friend_, the phrase floated up in my mind. Followed shortly by a word that made me blush like a schoolgirl: _Boyfriend._

I still wasn't completely convinced that I wasn't having some bizarre nightmare. The main thing that had me believing it was reality was the fact that the universe generally did hate me this much. Sometimes I wondered if whatever consciousness controlled the Gate could screw with reality without the help of some fool alchemist trying to go against nature more than usual. Even Al had doubts about the Gate being somehow sentient, and generally the idea would be the kind of thing I would dismiss as well. But it took Izumi-sensei's ability to have more children in order to resurrect her stillborn baby and it castrated Scar's brother when he tried to bring back his lover. On the few occasions we talked about this Al would point out that the price I paid didn't have any meaning, completely missing the fact that _he_ was the price I paid: family for family. Hell, even the fact that I lost an arm and a leg could be some sick joke. And anything that twisted could probably find a way to screw with people, particularly people who have a connection to it.

Even inside my own head it sounded paranoid and stupid. Not the part about the Gate being sentient, but the idea of blaming all the crap in my life on it. If it was the case or if it wasn't there was still only one thing I could do, and that's to deal with things as they came.

_Very philosophical_… I thought with self-directed sarcasm so thick the doctor could probably taste it. _Now maybe instead of worrying about the cause of things I can actually look at the problem and figure out what to do about it._

I glared at the problem. Russel grinned back and was scolded by the doc for it.

_Disbelief and my own irrational hopes and fears aside, where do we go from here? He wouldn't suggest this unless he was sure of it himself, at least, as sure as he can be without further tests... I need to spend less time at the lab. Regardless, he could think he's attracted to men but maybe he's just not not-attracted? Some sort of neutral state where maybe he's fine with kissing but anything below the waist would still make him uncomfortable. Is there a way to test that?_

I blushed in spite of myself and very carefully didn't look at Russel.

_A way to test __**besides**__ the obvious. I don't think there is. So the only way to prove to him that this is a bad idea is to get him into bed. __**That**__ won't backfire at all..._

"Hey, Ed, come on!"

I started and realized that I had gotten a little too introspective and lost touch with reality. The doctor had finished with the bandaging and was holding the door open for us. He was still glaring at me. Russel was leaning over me and I took the opportunity to examine the damage. It wasn't as bad as I thought with only two stitches and one butterfly closure. It was still more than should have been there.

"I'm sorry, Rus, I shouldn't have-"

He scoffed at my apology. "You've said that already and there's not even anything to forgive. I provoked you, you reacted, so since we both messed up it's a wash."

I would have argued but I recognized the look on his face. He could be as stubborn as me—well, almost—and he was ready to put all that ornery into refusing to listen to me. I settled for a sigh. Finishing the paperwork and feeling guilty some more distracted me from the issue at hand up until I started the car.

_Oh, right, we're dating now_. I looked over at him in the passenger seat; he was staring out the window and trying to pretend he wasn't nervously glancing at me. _He probably has no idea what to do now... probably worried I'll punch him again. Or he's trying to figure out why I reacted that badly. I really don't know which possibility is worse at this point._

I paid extra sharp attention to traffic, which was practically nonexistent at two in the morning. Still, it couldn't hurt to be sure, particularly with an injured passenger. It was a weak distraction but I didn't know if I could survive examining the latest turn of events right then. I still wasn't completely convinced that I wasn't having a nervous breakdown and all I was seeing was a vivid hallucination.

_Russel's probably filling out the paperwork. That's why I imagined filling out his medical paperwork, because I saw him with mine. I'm probably tied down with something nasty, both restraints and drugs, to keep me from accidentally breaking someone's skull with my auto-mail. Thus the hallucinations. By the time my brother gets here that will be out of my system and maybe he can talk some sense into me. Man, I really hope he's not with his girlfriend when he gets the news. He likes her and he doesn't need me scaring her off indirectly..._

By the time we pulled into the driveway I had half convinced myself that I was having a psychotic episode. The fact that I still found this preferable to the reality where this was really happening probably should have worried me, but I was too tired to feel anything by that point. I was so numb from the emotional, mental, and physical exhaustion that, once I made sure Russel got to his room okay, I flopped onto my bed and fell asleep with my shoes and coat still on.

_I'll find out in the morning. Either Al and an orderly will be staring at me or I'll be here at home. Then I can decide what to do._


End file.
